LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




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POBMS 



RELIGIOUS 



M ISCELLANEOUS 



BY 



1/ 



William James J^cClure, 



2 .7 Rector at Barrytown, N. Y. 




NEW YORK : 

J. W. Pratt & Son, Printers and Publishers, 
73-79 Fulton Street. 



1888. 



75 a^-^^- 



Copyrighted, 1888, 

BY 

William James McClure. 



To Rev. H. R , 

{Montreal), 

THE CLERIC'S MENTOR 

and 

THE POETS FRIEND, 

THIS BOOK 

IS FAITHFULLY INSCRIBED 

by 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS 



RELIGIOUS. 

A Prayer to the Sacred Heart 7 

At Pentecost 9 

A Vision 10 

Cathedral Birds 12 

Christian Resignation 13 

Christmas Times 15 

Contrast 16 

Easter Blessings 17 

Easter Lilies 17 

Eternity 18 

How Sad the Thought 20 

Humility 21 

In Memoriam: 

I.— Pius IX, Pope 22 

II. — Archbishop Hughes 23 

III.— Rev. W. O'D 24 

Invocation 25 

Labor and Rest 26 

Leo is Peter 27 

Lights Along the Stream 29 

Lines on the 25th Anniversary Im. Con. B. V. M 31 

Look Before ! 31 

Mary, the Immaculate 32 

Morality 34 

No and Yes 35 

Priestly Love ... 36 

Remember Death 36 

Saint Agnes 37 

Saint Catherine's Convent, N. Y .... 38 



VI CONTENTS. 

Saint Patrick's Cathedral, N. Y 40 

Safety in Faith 41 

Soul Secrets 43 

Sursum Corda 44 

The Agnostic 46 

The Christmas Midnight Mass 47 

The Crushed Rose 48 

The Heart : 48 

The Heart of June 50 

The Mother of May 51 

The Mountain of the Holy Cross 53 

The Religious Test 55 

The Steeples of Saint Rose 56 

The Thought of God 58 

The Twelve 58 

To Saint Ann 63 

Treasures 64 

Word and Deed 65 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



I. 



Affection for Nature 67 

A Reminiscence 68 

Autumn 73 

A Waif 74 

A Walk in Winter 75 

Banks of Bloom 78 

Buds and Blossoms 79 

Clock and Canary 81 

Come to the Harvest Fields 82 

Evening Reveries 84 

June 86 



CONTENTS. Vll 

Morning-Glories 87 

Nature and Art 88 

October 91 

October Days 92 

Old Mansions 94 

On the Lake 95 

Reason and Fancy 96 

Rustic Scenes 98 

Scene and Season 99 

Song of the Mowers 100 

Summer 102 

Sunnyside 1 03 

Sweet Summer-time has Fled 104 

The Autumn Moon 106 

The Hudson Highlands 107 

The Hudson River 109 

The Solitary Stream 113 

The Spring Shower 114 

The Summer Rain .... 115 

The Valley Spring 115 

The Woodland Bridge 117 

The New Year 119 

The Year's Close 120 

Violets and Pansies 122 

Winter Verses 123 

Winter's Victim 124 



II. 



Ambition 127 

America to Ireland : Greeting 128 

A Song of Sympathy 129 

Changes. . . 131 

Counsel 132 

Exultation 133 

Friendship 135 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

Glimpses 136 

Honor 138 

Land 138 

Lines to a Brilliant Star 140 

Moore's Centenary 141 

Praise 143 

Smith's Brigade — Battle of Lookout Mountain 144 

Society's Sea 148 

Stanzas 150 

Szegedin ... 151 

Timothy O'Brien 152 

Toleration 154 

To the Angel of Peace 155 

The Fall of the Leaves. 156 

The Irish Way 157 

The Memory of the Brave 158 

The Outcast's Grave 160 

The Rights of Man 161 

The Shamrock and Laurel 163 

The Struggle and Triumph 165 

To Tragedy 166 

Vales and Mountains 167 

Verses About a Blackthorn 169 

Victory and Glory 1 70 

War 172 

Wealth no Merit. . . 173 

" ZiLLORA," a Tale — From : 

Crows Caw from Pine and Oak. 175 

Dear Power of Love 176 

In Search of Treasure-Trove 177 

Night 178 

The Grave 1 80 

The Page 181 

The Wanderer 185 

The Watcher 186 

Zillora's Song 188 

Zillora's Visitor i8q 



RELIGIOUS 



A PRAYER TO THE SACRED HEART. 



DEDICA TED TO THE CA THOLICS OF THE ECCLESIASTICAL 
PROVINCE OF NEW YORK. 



O Sacred Heart of Jesus ! we humbly pray to 
thee, 

That in thy sweet compassion our souls may sin- 
less be ; 

That strong in Faith united, a rampart we may 
form, 

Against the works of Unbelief, that ravage like a 
storm. 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus ' so tender, pure and 

mild, 
That dwelt for our salvation in Bethlehem's holy 

child ; 
Thy children lift their voices, with unison and 

love — 
Oh, hear them, bless them, guide them, to where 

thou art above ! 



8 A PRAYER TO THE SACRED HEART. 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus ! resplendent in the 
truth, 

That beat with calm pulsations in Nazareth's 
gentle youth ; 

Our youth from fell temptation deliver and pre- 
serve, 

That never from thy fealty our hearts and minds 
may swerve. 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus ! of beauty without ban, 
That prompted mighty wisdom in Jerusalem's 

God-man ; 
Forgive the derelictions of those of elder age — 
Renew the faint devotion of all in pilgrimage. 

O Sacred Heart of Jesus ! that bled in Calvary's 

gloom, 
That rose o'er death triumphant and glorified 

the tomb. 
Help thy unworthy suppliants, beset by worldly 

scorn — 
Protect us in religion until the Better Morn. 



AT PENTECOST. 

In the shadow reclining — 

It wraps me round 
Like the sleep that encases 
A dreaming soul — 
I hear the sound 
Harmonic roll 
Through arches and blest places, 
And my mind is divining. 

'Tis the most winsome Whitsuntide 
I 've lived in years of care : 

The Dove came down — 

A sinless crown 

It gave my soul to wear. 



There 's a doorway before me, 

The full light beams 
Over chancel and altar, 
Touching the cross. 
A splendor streams 
'Midst hallowed gloss. 
As golden thought in the psalter. 
And the lamp-blaze burns o'er me. 



lO A VISION. 

A voice sings softly, lowly, sweet, 
Pleading saintly desires : 
In twilight dim 
More kind 's one hymn 
Than songs of many choirs! 

Grant, Lord, from out Heaven's shining gate 

Beams of the Holy Dove, 
That from my heart may vanish hate, 

Possessing only love. 
Come with thy grace, O Holy Ghost, 
To bless this Pentecost ; 
The day that to the Christian's breast 
Brings light and life and rest. 



A VISION. 

In a nook of a house where join many eaves, 

And cosy security sanctifies rest, 
A dreamer bright thoughts into melody weaves, 

And sings out his soul from the warmth of his 
breast. 

Apart from the turbulent world of the Real, 
Pure dreams of the Beautiful soothingly rise, 

And an angel-form opes the shrine of Ideal, 
With the glory of Heaven enriching her eyes. 



A VISION. II 

A vision uplooms amidst petulant clouds, 
That seemingly battle, its glare to o'ershade : 

Eternity's semblance appears, and the crowds 
Of the silent spirit-world glitter and fade. 

The souls that have prayed, and the souls that 
have fought. 

Outshine in their happiness, shrink in their woe; 
O'er-throngingthe realms of the universeThought- 

The saints on the hills, and the demons below. 

Aloft m the zenith the Light of the Good, 

Enwreathed with the splendors of seraphic 
wings. 

Delights, as the sun in its summer-tide mood. 
And blesses the toilers as well as the kings! 

Ay ! th' angels, that stand and repose on the hills. 
All equal and blissful exult in its beams ; 

And the spirits of doom, 'midst shadows and ills, 
Upgaze with a longing, that sorrowful seems. 

It departs, that vision of torment and weal, 

Like a vapor devoured by the radiant East, 
When Night and its phantoms to nothingness 
steal, 
And the glow of the world is by Heaven in- 
creased. 



CATHEDRAL BIRDS.* 

'Twas true Religion's holiday, 
And benediction from on high 

Came down, 'midst priest-array 
And multitude, to sanctify 

A great cathedral beautiful 

In a great city's Sunday-lull. 

Winged visitants flew o'er the scene, 
And sang as though an angel-choir ; 

Whilst worshipers of happy mien 

Lifted their hearts, like flames of fire, 

In praise and joy, in joy and praise, 

To God, for that bright day of days. 

United woke the harmonies 

Of Faith and Nature; all a-tune. 

The arches, as the tops of trees, 

Resonant spread with music's croon. 

The voice of man, the song of bird, 

And strains from instruments were heard. 



* During the ceremonies of dedication of St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
New York, May 2sth, 1879, birds entered at windows near the high 
altar, and sang. 



CHRISTIAN RESIGNATION. I3 

Praise was full in the sacred house — 
Joy was complete, and holy words 

Told glories of the Saviour's spouse. 
Chanted the blithe cathedral birds 

Sweet intervals of artless song 

The capitals and aisles along. 

Unseen, an angel company 

Watches the altar, where the Lord 

Of nations dwells for thee and me, 
O Christian pious, thus to ward 

The Holy of Holies, as of old 

The ark of God, of wood and gold. 

This is my faith, and for my sense, 

The presences of outer forms. 
That lure to Heaven, that turn me thence, 

Are as soft zephyrs 'midst rude storms. 
And so my fancy searches words 
To celebrate cathedral birds ! 



CHRISTIAN RESIGNATION. 

Though parting from this varying world, 

With all its joys and woes, 
I grasp the flag of faith unfurled 

As life's stream upward flows ; 



14 CHRISTIAN RESIGNATION. 

A Christian's hope within my breast 
Now lingers on the mind ; 

I 'm hastening to a lengthened rest, 
'Tis true, I am resigned. 



Oh, do not grieve when I forsake 

This earth, with dangers fraught ; 
Soon, soon will all of death partake. 

This world will come to naught ; 
But think of blessed things beyond 

The firmament combined, 
Where lives eternal friendship's bond- 

Oh, yes, I am resigned. 



Then lay my ashes in the tomb, 

So lonely and so drear — 
But why come o'er me thoughts of gloom ? 

My spirit 's full of cheer ! 
The soul will soar and heavenward rise, 

To Him, most good and kind ; 
Oh, may I win for Christ the prize — 

I am, I am resigned. 



CHRISTMAS TIMES. 

Thrice hail anew, blithe Christmas Times, 
So happily replete with chimes, 

Suggesting kindly rarity 
From richest rich to poorest poor : 

Sweet Joy and Hope and Charity 
Come smiling in at every door — 
The offspring of the Christmas Times, 
Now resonant with many chimes. 

They foster peace, these Christmas Times, 
Irradiant over War's wild crimes, 

Long wont to grieve and horrify ; 
They come with hymn and purging prayer. 

The God of all to glorify ; 
And angels chant adown the air : 
Live Peace, to bless the Christmas Times, 
Die War, and Pestilence, and Crimes ! 

O watchers in the eastern climes, 
Where first began the Christmas Times, 

Sound gladsome bells full merrily, 
Re-echoing o'er the western lands, 

As clear, as grand, as cheeril}^. 
Till sea and shore the joy expands 
Of these dear, holy Christmas Times, 
So laughingly replete with chimes ! 



CONTRAST. 

The Christian shines with traits of Christ, 

The infidel has Evil's sheen ; 
By differing loves are each enticed — 

Bridgeless the depth their loves between. 
The Christian's peace is peace alway ; 

But worldly power and infidel 
Would Peace and Truth eternal slay — 

The hopeless strife of Error swell. 

The Christian, though oppressed by sin, 

May rise, a victor penitent ; 
The infidel can never win 

The glory of the innocent. 
The prize of power, with loss of soul. 

The Christian would, perforce, repel. 
But worldly greatness is the goal 

Of earth-adoring infidel. 

The Christian is in Faith arrayed, 

Protected by the sword of Truth ; 
The infidel elects the shade 

Where Falsity has set her booth — 
Her votaries to lure, and deck 

With robes of honor, rich and brave, 
That may not keep the soul from wreck — 

That cannot pass the awful grave ! 



17 



EASTER BLESSINGS. 

What are Eastej blessings, spirit-seer ? 
Are they passing riches, honors here ? 
Do they to the outer sense appear ? 

Easter blessings dwell among the meek, 
Filling the heart, shining on the cheek ; 
They are gifts of the pure, strong or weak. 

To the young, the maiden and the swain, 
Who have suffered self-denial's pain, 
Easter blessings come with holy gain. 

Manhood in true glory treads the ground ; 
Womanhood with heavenly beauty 's crowned. 
That has Easter blessings sought and found. 

Easter blessings are possessions sweet, 
Held in those souls saved from sin's defeat — 
The Resurrection's grace and love complete ! 



EASTER LILIES. 

What may we offer to the Lord arisen, 

To him most precious, sweet and beauteous ? 

Our hearts, all purified, like lovely lilies. 
Our hearts, in God's attachment duteous. 



l8 ETERNITY. 

Some flowers that grow beside an earthly river 
Are emblems of men's thoughts and yearnings- 

Of human griefs and modesty of living — 
Of sensual and heavenward burnings. 

O brothers, sisters of the race of Adam, 
Select your gifts from earth's bright floral. 

Yet gather nothing for your Lord eternal 
That breathes not of his grace and moral. 

Bring ye forth lilies of your hearts to give him, 
Tokens of freedom from sin's fetter ; 

And, as they never fade in this life's winter, 
They '11 fructify unto a better ! 



ETERNITY. 

Eternity! Absorbing's the reflection 
Of another and never-ending life. 

Where souls are subject to divine inspection- 
The wicked banished to eternal strife — 

The good received as chosen ones of Heaven 

To live in bliss, by God's great mercy given 



ETERNITY. I9 

On that coming life the mind of man should 
dwell ; 

Let preparation mark each earth-spent hour ; 
Blest acts and thoughts will in the end prove well — 

True germs that everlastingly will flower ! 

This grand world was formed by the Almighty 
will, 

And favored man to live hereon was sent, 
The Creator's holy wishes to fulfill — 

For mankind's folly mankind must repent. 

To God's judgment-seat each mortal will be called, 
And conscious deeds in contrast will be shown; 

How the erring spirit will be then appalled, 
'Tis terrible to fancy, not unknown. 

Heaven's bright realm, where all the sainted souls 
sojourn, 
Is open, and the faithful there can rest; 
In the pit of Satan faithless millions mourn, 
Horrors surround, and none, ay, none are 
blest! 

This life is a shortened one, and incomplete, 
Another world shall hold the human soul ; 

Oh, may great throngs in Christ's redemption 
meet, 
To blissful live for aye, and God extol ! 



HOW SAD THE THOUGHT. 

As eve, with deepening shadows fraught, 
Succeeds the bright and smiling day, 

How very sadly comes the thought 
That those we love must pass away ! 

The solitude that wraps the night 

Casts o'er the mind Reflection's spell ; 

Then Fancy, in its loftiest flight. 

Brings dreams that joy and sorrow tell. 

The dearest and the loveliest 

Must sleep beneath Death's clayey pall. 
To rise to an eternal rest 

At God's most blest and mighty call ! 

Affliction visits sinful man, 

And fills the heart with solemn gloom ; 
May fortitude our sorrows span — 

Eternity is human doom. 

Although by holy teaching taught 

That all must face Death's low'ring day. 

How very sadly comes the thought 
That those we love must pass away ! 



HUMILITY. 

A virgin humbly knelt, 

In attitude most meek, 
And, uncomplaining, felt 

The wrongs she would not speak. 
Men's rage and earthly scorn 

Her purity did chide. 
And o'er the world was borne 

A sweet rebuke to pride. 
Full kindly she forgave 

The agents of her woe, 
And that which would deprave 

Shrunk back, a weakened foe. 
Humility ! All hearts imbue, 
Glory of Virtue's retinue. 



IN MEMORIAM. 



I. 

Pius IX, Pope. 

Died February 7th, A. D. 1878. 

Dead is the Pontiff-father of the Christian orb, 
Long time the watcher and the warder of the 
truth- 
Pius, ninth of the name of those whose deeds ab- 
sorb 
So full a portion of the Church's strength and 
ruth. 
And how he loved Christ's Spouse, and how in 
her defense 
He was an exile and a prisoner, though a king; 
And how invasion came with violent pretense, 
And brooded, vulture-like, shadowing with its 
wing 
The country of the Popes — profaning Holy 
Rome — 
All this and more arise to faithful memory. 
Conning the conflict of Religion 'gainst the gnome 
Of worldly power, and steadfast o'er the Papal 

See 
Pius reigned ; but death hath set his saintly 
spirit free ! 



IN MEMORIAM. 2$ 



II. 



Archbishop Hughes. 

His body lying in state at Saint Patrick's (old) Cathedral, 
New York, January 7th, 1864. 

A prelate of the Church lies dead — 

A foeman ever to all guile — 
Soft, soft, and saddened be each tread 

Up the Cathedral aisle. 

A Christian hero mortally 

Reposes in that temple old, 
To mark how blest a man may die 

With heavenly souls enrolled! 

Impassionless, and bending low, 
A multitude to mourn are met, 

And as they slowly come and go 
Each bosom sighs regret. 

List, list! the Requiem upward rolls, 

And flees to Heaven in breathings sweet; 

'Tis answered by angelic souls 
Around the Judgment-seat. 



24 IN MEMORIAM. 



III. 



Rev. W. O'D- 



Died in Brooklyn, N. Y., November 5th, 1872. 

How rests the young priest dead ? 

In the clay is his bed ; 

There, where the sere leaves fall, 

A fresh mound covers all 

Of earth of him who died, 

Faithful and sanctified. 

A morn of clouds had come, 
And mid-day followed bright, 
And distant, far from home. 
Met friend with friend, to prove 
For him last deeds of love. 
Few souls of mortal sight 
Beheld the burial-scene, 
But peopled was the air 
With mourners mute, I ween, 
And sacred peace was there. 

A child of Erin he — 
Here was his ministry. 
By ordination sealed ; 
A toiler in the field 



INVOCATION 25 

Of soul-salvation true, 
He ever sought to strew 
Around the sinner's feet 
The flowers of virtue sweet ; 
And where God's temples stand 
Are traces of his hand. 

There lies the young priest dead, 

Among his kinsmen's bones ; 
His spirit 's heavenward fled ; 

His memory on stones 
Will be impressed ; but, oh, 

His truest monument 
Is in the hearts whose woe 

In prayers to God is sent ! 



INVOCATION. 

Come, sunlight of the summer days. 

Come, budding time ana bloom. 
Come, years like sweet successive Mays, 

To garland o'er the gloom. 
Come, beams of everlasting Love, 

With faces of the fair ; 
Come, Friendsnip's hand, without the glove 

That false pretenders wear. 



26 LABOR AND REST. 

Come, cheerful sights and soothing sounds, 

In concord ever grand, 
Come, flowers, to beautify the mounds 

That sink to level land ! 
Come, angel-visitors of dreams. 

To gladden and to bless ; 
Come, Truth, in never-ceasing beams, 

Come, holy Happiness. 



LABOR AND REST. 

Sweet is the rest that followeth labor, 

For labor sanctifies rest ; 
As work is holy, rest is holy. 

And holiness is the test 
Of worthiness in the life of man. 
And it crowns his varied sphere and plan 

Labor there is that hath no respite 
Of pleasant rest, calm and strong ; 

'Tis work accursed, however gilded — 
'Tis false, and so it is wrong — 

Withering at the breath of the Lord, 

Whose blessing is true labor's reward. 



LEO IS PETER. 27 

O brother ! whereso be thy labor, 
There is thy life, there is thy rest, 

And restless lives are those whose livine 
Answer not the godly test ; 

Thy labor and thee soon will sever, 

But holy Rest remains forever. 



LEO IS PETER: A. D. 1888. 

The minds of men may strive to peer 

Through what the Pope may say or do ; 
And some may weigh him as their fear 

Or fancy may dictate them to ; 
But this is what my firm faith hath — 

Through weal or woe, through good or ill, 
To truth shall come no lasting scath- 

Our Leo is but Peter still. 

He holds the doctrine without change, 

Sealed by the blood of Jesus Christ ; 
He holds dominion o'er the range 

Of souls baptized and heaven-priced. 
No more, no less, than Peter taught 

Can Leo teach, and teach he will : 
To this the argument is brought — 

Our Leo is but Peter still. 



28 LEO IS PETER. 

'Twere better in wrong circumstance 

To suffer, and await the hour 
When Right shall rouse up from its trance, 

Than yield to guilty worldly power. 
The will of God 'fore that of men 

Is what all souls of grace fulfill ; 
I feel in heart, I stamp with pen 

Our Leo is but Peter still. 

As God is one, and truth is one. 

There is one way of God and truth ; 
That way was by the Saviour-Son 

Marked for his Holy Church, forsooth ; 
And craven to an earthly fee — 

Though princes lives in vengeance spill — 
The Church's Head will never be ! 

Our Leo is but Peter still. 

Though grow mankind more wise than 't is, 

There is a wisdom over all 
The minds that ponder that or this. 

Of how the Pope and Church will fall. 
The struggle is not new nor done 

Between Christ's Spouse and worldly skill ; 
Yet truth shines out like star or sun — 

Our Leo is but Peter still ! 



LIGHTS ALONG THE STREAM. 

The sun behind the mountains disappeared, 

O'er other realms to glitter and to rise; 
In shadows wrapped, the woods looked dim and 
weird. 
And farewell rays with crimson flecked the 
skies. 
The moon's mild face smiled sweetly in the 
east, 
The sun's departure clarified its beam. 
And, as the pall of evening increased, 

Lights shone afar, and flashed along the 
stream. 

From cottage-homes in valleys near the shore. 

From mansions on the hilly slopes beyond. 
The twinkling lights grew radiant more and 
more. 
Like stars transferred to earth from heavenly 
bond. 
Silently passed the hours of slumb'rous night, 

And Luna sat 'mong lesser orbs supreme ; 
There rose a charm — full beauteous was the 
sight — 
Each taper's glare reflected in the stream. 



30 LIGHTS ALONG THE STREAM. 

Calm moved the waves to mingle with the sea; 
Green groves and heights stretched to the river- 
strand ; 
Towns reared where fertile tracts wooed in- 
dustry, 
Close-curtained until sunshine lit the land. 
Slowly the lights in darkness were entombed, 

And gloomier became the shore and stream; 
Men sought their couches, and dear sleep re- 
sumed — 
Some to unrest, some happily to dream. 



Lights glow along the rapid stream of Time, 

And gladden life as ocean beacons far: 
Bright Hope, Love, Truth, and Christian Faith 
sublime, 

Reflected in the stream, and each life's star ! 
May none be dimmed, linked in a glorious 
chain. 

To shine upon the surge with purest gleam ; 
If one be lost, may others yet remain 

To cheer the flow of Time's resistless stream. 



LINES. 



Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Dogma of the Immaculate Conception 
B. V. M., December 8th, 1879. 

Blest be the memory of Pius, 
Whose life was full of holy deeds, 
Who ruled the Church, and knew its needs, 
Nor would the gracious help deny us 
Of that sweet Dogma, to the world 
Proclaimed, twenty years and five ago. 
The Truth then blazoned was unfurled 
On the broad scroll of Articled Belief, 
And high praise to God that it was so: 
Spotless was our Mother Mary made. 
To bring us Mercy's glorious relief — 
The Saviour — repentant sinners' aid ! 
To Father, Son and Holy Ghost 
Thanksgivings rise from all Christ's host. 



LOOK BEFORE ! 

Mariners, upon life's deep. 

Travelers, upon life's shore. 
In your thoughts the future keep — 
Look before ! 



32 MARY, THE IMMACULATE. 

Peasants, in the path of toil, 
Sages, in the fields of lore. 
Strive the future ne'er to spoil — 
Look before ! 

Soldiers, 'mid the battle's glare, 

Wretches, whom mankind deplore, 
Be not reckless nor despair — 
Look before ! 

Youth, relinquish ev'ry guile. 

Age, be righteous more and more. 
And the future time will smile — 
Look before ! 



MARY, THE IMMACULATE. 

She was the chosen maid of God — 

Determined by the Almighty mind- 
When Adam shrank before the rod, 

And Eden's pleasant ways resigned. 
'Twere vain to seek her radiant face 

In pride of temporal estate, 
For humblest of the human race 

Was Mary, the Immaculate. 



MARY, THE IMMACULATE. S;^ 

Judah awaited many an age, 

Expectant of a Saviour-King! 
He came, but Judah, worldly sage, 

Knew not the Master, suffering ; 
For his was not the specious plan 

Of earthly power and riches great — 
The Son of God becameth man 

Of Mary, the Immaculate 

Could Mary be a child of sin 

And be the Mother of the Lord ? 
The very words should freely win 

'Mong Christians, negative accord. 
For Faith denieth falsity. 

However learned and obstinate. 
And Reason utters its decree 

That Mary is Immaculate. 

" Hail, full of grace !" the Angel said, 

" Hail, full of grace !" the Fathers kenned ; 
" Hail, full of grace !" Confessors prayed, 
" Hail, full of grace, our souls defend !" 
Thou wert retriever of the Fall, 

Thou art in glory elevate ; 
Be thou a Mother to us all, 
O Mary, so Immaculate ! 



MORALITY. 

The righteous mandate of the good, 
And Virtue's handmaid true — 

Erect and beautiful it stood 

As humankind the better grew. 

In places where God's might is taught, 
Where truths spread far and wide, 

'Tis there it always should be sought, 
And there it always should abide. 

At home, around the fireside hearth, 

In beauty let it reign; 
And those who wish for right on earth 

Should strive its purpose to sustain. 

'Mid social circles, where unite 
The young, of manners gay, 

This theme should be the shining light 
To guide grave Duty on its way. 



NO AND YES. 35 



No land 's so dear as our own land, 
No home so sweet as our own home, 
No scene so prized as the old scene. 
No friend so kind as the old friend. 
No foe we know like our own foe, 
No joy we feel like our own joy, 
No grief 's so near as our own grief. 
No rest more wished than our own rest, 
No toil so irks as our own toil, 
No hope so cheers as our own hope. 
No love so warms as our own love, 
No faith so arms as our own faith — 
On Earth. 

Yes, a land there is — our true land. 
Yes, a home there is — our true home, 
Yes, a scene there is — a blest scene, 
Yes, our friends are there — our best friends, 
Yes, our foes come not to harm there. 
Yes, our rest will Ust — a long rest, 
Yes, our toils come not to tire there, 
Yes, our hope will have its meed there, 
Yes, our love will dwell for aye there, 
Yes, our faith will guide our souls there — 
In Heaven. 



PRIESTLY LOVE. 

Where there 's full love of soul for souls 
God ever moves the human heart ; 
There is the priestly love, that doles 
Itself in acts, which are a part 
Of life complete — the outer rays 
That show what fire of love inburns, 
How good-will into goodness turns. 
A time of parting comes ; and then 
The people would not lose their priest : 
While toward his first-care strongly yearns 
The sacerdotal soul, his days 
Are theirs to whom he 's sent ; and when 
His labor with his life has ceased 
A goodly memory rests with men. 



REMEMBER DEATH. 

Remember, O Humanity ! 

The end erf earthly life ; 
Let not the heart with vanity 

Be filled, nor sin grow rife 
Within the deathless soul. 
God's holy name extol — 

Remember Death ! 



SAINT AGNES. 



37 



Ye rulers, and ye modest poor, 
Shackled with worldly cares, 

Keep, keep your many spirits pure, 
By soul-repentant prayers ! 

Oh, walk the brightened way, 

For earth is as a day — 

Remember Death ! 

Solemn the hour — Eternity ! 
By sacred words defined ; 

The perils of Death's shadowy sea- 
Absorbing to the mind. 

Grand Christian truths remain : 

May all God's blessings gain — 

Remember Death ! 



SAINT AGNES. 

Commemorative of First Mission. 

The saints are blest examples. Lord; 
The granary of Heaven is stored 

With the ripe garner of thy sowing; 
The souls of men and women, lit 
With light supernal, cherished it. 

And rose in endless splendor glowing. 



38 SAINT Catherine's convent. 

And so Saint Agnes, in the time 

Of martyred hosts and pagan crime, 

Gave to thy love her youth and beauty ; 
No other spouse than Thou was hers — 
She would not with false worshipers 

Betray her pure and sacred duty. 

She lived the life of holy grace, 
She died with glory on her face. 

And in her blood, O Lord, she won thee. 
Beneath her tutelage benign 
Is placed this priestly mission mine — 

Then be thy benediction on me ! 



SAINT CATHERINE'S CONVENT. 

Sisters of Mercy, New York. 

Home of the righteous ! Mercy's fair retreat 
For souls who wish to serve but God alone, 
And, serving Him, the ills of man defeat. 
By true instruction, consolations meet. 

To those that in misfortunes' fetters groan. 



SAINT CATHERINE S CONVENT. 39 

It is the spirit's resting-place upon life's earthly 
road, 
Where flow pure fountains of divine intent, 
And many weary, halting hearts cast off their 
sinful load, 
Through blest persuasion — holy Sacrament. 

Home of the gentle ! where the child may come, 

And those whose hearts would be as children's 
are ; 
Where piety and patience close the sum 
Of duty, nor can be estranged therefrom ; 

Where woman shines, of tenderness a star. 
Ay, thus the Convent of Saint Catherine its mis- 
sion holds. 

Doing all in Mercy's name, pleasing Him 
Whose power the illimitable universe enfolds. 

Enthroned 'midst seraphim and cherubim. 



SAINT PATRICK'S CATHEDRAL, 

New York. 

The cause of God ennobles every work 

Done for his glory. In far times and deeds 

Rose the vast basilicas, and the seeds 
Planted through Christ's blood had generous 
fruitage, 

Despite the wars of heretic and Turk. 
How is it with the Church in this proud age ? 

Her children for her altars plant foundations, 
Erect the column and place the capital, 

Till high the cross-crowned spire invites the 
nations. 
There rises o'er Manhattan a cathedral. 

Venerable, yet new, of Gothic beauty. 

It is a mark of holy love and duty ; 
'Tis a splendor, resting on earth in blessing, 
Pointing toward Heaven — Christian Faith con- 
fessing. 



SAFETY IN FAITH. 

The eye of mind Columbia's future scans, 
As gazing wide it views the present's plans, 
And sees the past writ in ten thousand tomes — 
The fall of Eden — glory such as Rome's, 
Where Caesars ruled with pagan enterprise, 
And made a god of State, and worshiped lies : 
Scorning the sweet, strong force of Christ's high 

creed, 
That taught the world, depraved to spirit-need. 
And told mankind that there 's a Power o'er all — 
Divine, immortal, howe'er rise or fall 
The works of men, telling the earthly State 
Its true allegiance to the Increate, 
Whence comes its life, as body formed of soul — 
Whence myriad spheres in seriate orbits roll. 

The godship of the State a prey desired ; 
And martyrs for the early Faith expired ; 
Then rose the fabric of the Christian Church, 
Then fell State-deity from Falsehood's perch. 
And yearned the soul of man, whereso he trod, 
From creature to Creator — earth to God. 
Freed from State-deism's chain, and full of youth, 
Emerged the Church in triumph of the truth. 



42 SAFETY IN FAITH. 

Upon her brow the thorns were changed to flowers; 
The dial she, whereon Salvation's hours 
Revolve, advancing, until time is done. 
She was the brightness of the world — the sun — 
The safety of the peoples, checking rule 
Misused — she's still the same — man's holy school ! 

A god of Irreligion now is reared ; 

Nor stone, nor wood is in its fane endeared, 

Nor sacrifice is offered in its name. 

For 'tis a nothingness. Oh, the shame ! 

To live a life without the Faith, as though 

Without a deathless soul, inspired to know 

And seek its Saviour-Lord, its bliss and boon, 

And rest with him in heavenly commune. 

Indifference is nothingness, withal 

So like a god — an intellectual thrall, 

That binds my countrymen in numbers down, 

And serfs they are when they might wear the crown 

Of Faith— wherein 's defense for soul and State — 

Expressed by works, that mark its good innate. 

In Faith there's safety, loss in Unbelief; 
To skill the mind and morals blunt is chief 
Of all the means to make men greatly bad, 
And beckon on destruction, passion-mad. 



SOUL SECRETS. 



43 



Never, my country, be to thee the doom 
Of olden land, immersed in pagan gloom ; 
But, clasping close the Cross that Jesus blest. 
Stand 'midst the nations with true Christian crest. 
Thy laws will then be merciful and just. 
Nor smitten by the deeds of public lust. 
That murder to the heart the growing life 
Of hopeful empires, like th' assassin's knife. — 
Thy glory will be highest as 'tis given 
From the grand torch of Faith, which burns to 
Heaven! 



SOUL SECRETS. 

There are deep memories to mankind kin. 
Linked oft to holy virtue, oft to sin, 
Of which the worthiest friend, the kindest sire, 
Know naught of, be they beautiful or dire. 
They are soul secrets, bright and dark at times. 
And born of Christian deeds and godless crimes. 

The man who treads his fellow in the dust, 
And he who ventures to be true and just. 
Have each their daily share of hidden thought. 
With blest and fiendish doings ever fraught — 
Have each — adverse in mind — to men ungiven — 
Secrets that drag to hell or raise to Heaven. 



44 SURSUM CORDA. 

The martial conqueror, the civic sage, 

And toilers on life's lowly paths, where age 

And youth go journeying — gracious and rude — 

Keep secrets, conned in fav'ring solitude. 

Ay ! spirit-thralled, with peasant and with king, 

Live recollections glad and sorrowing. 

So twine wild mysteries around the soul, 

To quickly blast, when Judgment's thunders roll ; 

So mingle sweetest thoughts within the brain, 

Of smiling visages, released from pain — 

As God looks down in glory from his throne. 

And marks the vile, and makes the good his own. 



SURSUM CORDA. 

Within Cathedral walls grand accents rang. 
And music drank their echoes ; softly sang 
The choristers, responsive to the word 
Pronounced in solemn tones unto the Lord. 
Myriad lights shone o'er the altar's crest. 
And many forms were bending to be blest. 
The gleam of morn relit the panels' gloss, 
And wreathed a glory round the Christian 
Cross; 



SURSUM CORDA. 45 

All hearts seemed in communion with their God — 
This admonition broke as from the sod : 

Sursum Corda ! 

Within a cottage at the hour of eve — 
That time when labor has its short reprieve — 
A group knelt, unrestrained by social fears, 
As peacefully their souls went down the years. 
They felt the rapture of a worthy life, 
And dearest to the husband was the wife, 
And sweetest was the little playful child. 
In all its sunlight pranks so glad and wild. 
They happy were, from worldly strife apart. 
This admonition pure in ev'ry heart : 

Sursum Corda ! 

'Twas ere grim Battle ope'd its fiery woes. 
Ere heaped and scattered lay the bleeding foes, 
That down the line there passed a holy man. 
To bless the warriors as the fight began. 
They were the soldiers of a true crusade. 
For Freedom taught them tyrants to degrade. 
While burying foul Tyranny's remains. 
Upon the living stood no dastard stains ; 
And those that fell on fields of slaughter wide 
Still kept this admonition as they died : 

Sursum Corda ! 



THE AGNOSTIC. 

The truth he does not know 

That lies within Faith's ken ; 
Yet confidence may show 

To words of fellow-men. 
To earth his seared heart turns — 

To Heaven he will not look ; 
His mind, ignoring, spurns 

Tradition and the Book. 

A child of nature, he. 

Devoid of saving Hope, 
Lives out life's mystery. 

Nor to the light would grope 
In search of endless Home. 

His hope 's in world-unrest, 
For pearls he touches foam ; 

His days are vain, unblest. 

Without the Faith that frees, 

Without the Hope that lifts. 
Without the works in these. 

Through days and years he drifts. 
The love of self survives 

Where love of God should be, 
And holds him in its gyves — 

He has not Charity ! 



THE CHRISTMAS MIDNIGHT MASS. 

A Memory of Seminary Life. 

It is the solemn hour, and music sounds 

Where many lights illume the sacred place — 
The altar, sanctuary, farther bounds. 

Now enter, with ecclesiastic grace. 
The surpliced lines ; now they, slow-moving, face 

The tabernacle, genuflect, and pass 
To left and right, and so range tier on tier 

T' attend the gladsome Christmas Midnight 
Mass. 
The celebrant and ministers appear, 

And chants the choir, and breathes the organ 
forth. 
To glorify the Babe that came one year 

To save not merely east, west, south or north, 
But all the world, from blasting sin and vice. 
And here again He 's given in Sacrifice ! 



THE CRUSHED ROSE. 

A rose lay crushed upon the sod, 

By some unknown and heedless heel, 
That o'er it ruthlessly had trod, 

But could not all its beauty steal. 
'Twas with'ring on the dew-damp ground. 

Snatched from its life-providing stem ; 
Its sweet companions blushed around : 

Though crushed and dead, 'twas one of them ! 

A kindly hand preserved the rose, 

And placed it in a casket fair ; 
A soft voice said : " Howe'er life flows, 

'Twill prove a moral mentor there." 
Unconscious was the reckless heel 

That crushed the rose upon the sod ; 
It could not all the fragrance steal. 

That drew another soul to God ! 



THE HEART. 

The heart is a casket, wherein is set 

The spirit-gems of man, vouchsafed by God. 

In life's pristine hours 'tis closed : unconscious 

To itself is the smile of the infant, 

Yet 'tis heavenly as the sunshine or 

.Starlight above dim terrestrial realms. 



THE HEART. 49 

Tender is the radiance of the op'ning 

Casket, though faint the glitter of its gems. 

Childhood's joyous time succeeds oblivious 

Infancy ; character expands, reason 

Develops ; the gems in their places gleam 

With purity so pure that the future 

May boast not the ascendency. Behold — 

The casket opens ! Love, Humility, 

Faith, Hope, Truth, and their sister virtues are 

Revealed, and radiate the soul ; in them 

The simple delights of life's morning are 

Reflected : Oh, that those would always 

Shine as beauteous, the glory of the heart ! 

Youth dawns, and the world's tendencies allure 

The spirit, and alas ! dross commingles 

With the innate gems, and shames the casket. 

Hatred, Falsity, and all passions dark 

Instill the heart and shade its loveliness. 

Love outshines Hate, yet Hatred blackens Love ; 

Love still survives, the highest gem, most dear. 

Honor beams, but Falsity may subdue, 

Truth's splendor oft is dim, but never dies. 

Days gather into years, and the casket 
Crumbles beneath the valley's sod, mayhap. 
Or nearer the sky. Where repose the gems 
That were its happiness? In Heaven's crown. 



50 THE HEART OF JUNE. 

And whither falls the dross, so very dark ? 
Satan grasps it as he alone can grasp, 
To mar all good in unresisting souls, 
And drag them to his fiends forever down ! 



THE HEART OF JUNE. 

The age of the faithless mind behold 

As the stream of intellect wanders ; 
Unlit from above, its depths are cold, 

'Neath evil it darkens and squanders. 
There is poison in its turbulent waters. 

The demon of Pride is lord of its swells. 
And mourns Humility, watching the slaughters 

Of souls in the bondage of Error's spells. 

O for the Faith and the Sacred Heart, 

Fired with the flame of purest burning ; 
O for the blight of Satanic art, 

Bringing to wrong from highest yearning. 
Not groping through Scorn's caverns and ex- 
panses. 

Not rising on Presumption's faulty wing. 
The spirit of the Sacred Heart advances, 

The glory of the holy and the spring. 



THE MOTHER OF MAY 

In the richness and the warmth of June 

The Christian soul wakes to devotion, 
And, its tender chords, outstretched a-tune, 

Cahned is the restive human ocean ; 
For 'tis the Sacred Heart of Jesus bleeding 

In the long love of many hundred years, 
It is its deep pulsation sweetly pleading, 

That every day of pleasant June endears. 

Behold the age of the Sacred Heart — 

The age of the intellect shaded ; 
O heart and mind, remain not apart. 

Be your thoughts and affections blended, 
In the warp and woof of godly living. 

In the lifting Faith of eternal boon. 
In the clinging Hope of the All-forgiving, 

In the Charity of the Heart of June ! 



51 



THE MOTHER OF MAY. 

As Charity's flame outburns through ages, 

Speeding to ending ; 
As rays of youth enlighten the pages 

Of life's book, lending 



52 THE MOTHER OF MAY. 

A plenteous glow to the theme of day, 
So burns the holy Mother of May — 

Charity's Queen — 
So shines the beauteous Mother of May 

In youth serene. 

As dews of mercy gladden the chastened, 

Rising from sinning, 
As precious purity may be hastened 

In its sweet winning, 
And ever remain for those that pray, 
So gladsome is the Mother of May — 

High Mercy's Queen — 
So winsome is the Mother of May 

In spotless sheen. 



As power of grace the feeble enforces. 

Roused to well-doing, 
As the humble heart calms its remorses, 

For virtue suing, 
Raising the spirit enclosed in clay, 
So ever and aye, by night and day, 

From morn till e'en, 
Mother of Grace is Mother of May — 

Humility's Queen! 



THE MOUNTAIN OF THE HOLY CROSS. 

" There is a very beautiful peculiarity in the mountain, as its 
name shows. The principal peak is composed of gneiss, and the 
cross fractures of the rock on the eastern slope have made two great 
fissures, which cut into one another at right angles, and hold their 
snow in the form of a cross the summer long. — Picturesque A merica, 
vol. II, p. 502. 



Anear a Rocky Mountain-top a pallid Cross is 

placed ; 
Not by pencil, not by chisel, nor human hand 'tis 

traced ; 
For the labor elemental, aerial, terrene, 
Was within the grasp of Nature, and there she 

holds the scene. 

The traveler looks upward, as it were in search of 

God, 
As 'mid the Western giant peaks his feet, aweary, 

plod ; 
He sees not the Almighty's face, yet not entire 

the loss — 
He views one of his monuments — the Mountain 

of the Cross. 



54 '^HE MOUNTAIN OF THE HOLY CROSS. 

In recollection of the way in which the Saviour 

died, 
He kneels, and speaks some childhood prayers 

that with him still abide. 
'Tis not a sainted spot, forsooth, 'tis not Mount 

Calvary, 
But the mark upon the mountain is the semblance 

of the Tree ! 



Before the Eastern pioneers had pierced the far- 
ther wild. 

The labor of the elements divided and compiled — 

And Nature, as a sculptor, cut vast fissures, full 
of night, 

And Nature, as a limner, made the sculpture 
snowy white. 

So, on a Rocky Mountain-side the Holy Cross is 

placed, 
By the fissures and the snow-falls the sign of 

Faith is traced; 
And the Christian in the valley may bend upon 

the moss, 
Lifting up his heart to Heaven at the Mountain 

of the Cross. 



THE RELIGIOUS TEST. 

" Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of 
religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof." — ist Amendment 
to the U. S. Constitution. 

There was of old, in puritan times, 

A fierce religious test ; 
When other faiths were civil crimes, 

And so by law opprest, 
Contemned like plays or pantomimes 

By those that worshiped best ! 

A conflict, redd'ning into blood, 

From royal fealty tore 
Strong commonwealths — a brotherhood 

Outsprung from Right and War — 
Then no religious test withstood 

The liberty they swore. 

Their sages in the halls of state 
Proclaimed the power begot ; 

Religion, on the charter great. 
They freed — they hindered not ; 

Religious test it shows in hate — 
To faiths leaves equal lot. 



56 THE STEEPLES OF SAINT ROSE. 

A conflict, redd'ning into blood, 
The young 'Republic tore, 

Disparted was the peaceful flood 
And bellowed civil war : 

Then men of every faith were good 
For fight — for death — ay. more ! 

Now, on the charter of the free, 
The words as written stand. 

That trace religious liberty, 
Whilst peopled States expand : 

Religious test is bigotry, 
A demon in the land ! 



THE STEEPLES OF SAINT ROSE. 

"Saint Rose" and "Saint Therese" are villages of Canada, 
northward from Montreal. 

The steeples of Saint Rose, 
Standing like twin flambeaux. 

Shine in the light of morn : 
There by the Mille Isles' flood 
They mark the land for good — 

The parish church adorn. 



THE STEEPLES OF SAINT ROSE. 57 

Canadian glories fair, 
They coruscate in air 

Above Saint Rose's homes ; 
And far away are seen 
Their forms of glancing sheen, 

Where rise scholastic domes. 



When wandering clouds go by, 
Shading the earth and sky, 

Those temples dimmer grow ; 
But when, without a frown, 
The sun beams brightly down. 

They as in gladness glow ! 



Like sentinels of Faith, 
Erect they rise — beneath 

Them the soil of Terrebonne, 
And eyes from Saint Therese 
Gaze with a look of peace 

Those steeples grand upon. 



THE THOUGHT OF GOD. 

Expands the spirit in the thought of God, 

And open out its wings of Faith and Hope, 

Upward pointing; wrapped in its fleshy clod, 

'Midst human limitations forced to grope. 

It strives to pierce the world's reality, 

And look upon Heaven's immortality. 

'Tis Charity that lifts the spirit so. 

And shows the blest expanse, wherein may go 

Its yearnings, searching skyward for its realm. 

The thought of God is lustrous with the light 

That shadows of the earth cannot o'erwhelm ; 

For, bounded not by either time or night, 

It has the glory of eternal day. 

Fixed on the throne of Omnipresent sway. 



THE TWELVE. 

" And a great sign appeared in Heaven : A woman clothed with 
the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of 
twelve stars." — Apoc, xii : i. 

Who were the men in whose brave trust 
The Saviour sacred power gave? 

They were of weakness and of dust — 
God's instruments the world to save. 



THE TWELVE. 59 

What knew they then of Latin lore ? 

What knew they e'en of Grecian art ? 
They knew indeed whom to adore, 

They knew the grandeur of the heart. 

As Jacob's sons were numbered twelve, 

Whence sprang the Israelitish tribes — 
So wont in Holy Land to delve. 

Ere rose the Pharisees and Scribes — 
So numbered were the apostolic choir 

By Him who came to man redeem; 
And he was first who willed to aspire 

By love, and not ambition's dream. 

Saint Peter! he whose simple faith 

And unlearned mind o'ermatched the learned ; 
Who for the true cast falsehood's wraith, 

And for his Lord the earthy spurned. 
Till Jew and Gentile bowed beneath 

The primate-power entrusted him ; 
And so upon his head the wreath 

Of sainthood sits, though suns grow dim. 

Saint Andrew, second in the line. 

Was Peter's brother, following 
The Lamb of God, the Word Divine, 

Poor human nature hallowing. 



6o THE TWELVE. 

As was his Master, crucified, 

Saint Andrew hung upon a cross ; 

A martyr to the Faith he died. 

And for its gain he thought no loss. 

Third of the gifted, sainted train 

Was James, a son of Zebedee ; 
He left the fisher's boat and main 

At Jesus' call of " Follow me." 
Upon high Thabor he beheld 

The glory of transfigured Christ, 
And preached the Truth in land of eld, 

And sanctified, till sacrificed. 

Saint John, of Jesus much beloved, 

Was fourth in place, and pure of soul ; 
In Patmos, by a vision moved. 

He copied Heaven upon a scroll. 
As he with Mary mournful stood. 

To watch the death-throes of his Lord,, 
He is the type of brotherhood 

That Christians hold by Jesus' word. 

Fifth on the roll, with godly care, 
Saint Philip kept his Master near, 

As out upon the mountain spare 

A sweet compassion urged his fear ; 



THE TWELVE. 



6i 



Yet all the multitude were fed. 

He filled in fine his mission's sum 
Among the heathens, spirit-led, 

And died the death of martyrdom. 

The Gospel-page the sixth recalls 

Of those from whom the priesthood grew 
Armenia in grace installs 

The fame of Saint Bartholomew. 
'Midst trials dire and cruel fact 

He harvested the garner blest ; 
Religion glorifies the act. 

And claims his soul in endless rest. 

Saint Thomas, doubtful of the scene 

Of Jesus risen, flesh-encased, 
Was seventh of the twelve, between 

Bartholomew and Matthew placed. 
His life was forfeit to his zeal. 

In union with so many good; 
He fought the fight, was sealed with seal 

Of Ilim for whom he gave his blood. 

Within the public censor's stall 

Saint Matthew sat, and Jesus came ; 

Within the college eighth of all 
The publican is marked by name. 



62 THE TWELVE. 

The first to write the Gospel theme, 

As last was the Apostle John, 
His deeds were fitting to the scheme 

For which Christ walked the world upon. 

In justice dipped to garment's hem, 

Ninth of the sacred company, 
First Bishop of Jerusalem, 

Was James, the son of Alpheus he. 
In self-control his hours were spent. 

And, cast adown the temple-height, 
His gentle spirit upward went 

To God and gladness, peace and light. 

Saint Jude, who Thaddeus was named. 

Was tenth, with mind and heart of strength ; 
In Mesopotamia famed. 

To Persia he went at length ; 
And thus with Simon, eleventh peer. 

He sowed the doctrine of the just ; 
They shine above with brightness clear, 

Rewarded for their work and trust. 

In lieu of Judas, twelfth and last, 

Was Saint Mathias, of the rest 
The chosen, by the blind lot's cast — 

Now dwells he in our Father's breast. 



TO SAINT ANN. 63 

Behold, a faithful one was given 
Where Judas as a traitor fell : 

That one a candidate of Heaven, 
And this a suicide of hell I 



TO SAINT ANN. 

The thought of thee, Saint Ann, is not as maid, 
But matron ; on thy countenance the shade 

Of age thy sainthood venerable makes : 
That thou art motherly the heart conceives, 
That thou hast charity the mind believes, 

For none of ripen'd holiness partakes 

Whose will is not with God's for sinners' sakes. 
Be thy petitions for the spirit-weak, 

Be thy sweet vigils for the spirit-strong ; 
A multitude thy intercession seek, 

Struggling amidst the unbelieving throng. 
Then pray to God for them — for me — 
That bear the body of life's misery, 
Though happy in the hope of blest reward — 
O mother of the mother of the Lord ! 



TREASURES. 

Worldly treasures are cherished well, 
There 's avarice of gems and gold, 

Strong bolts to iron boxes tell 

The riches that their alcoves hold. 

From earthly wealth the mind and heart 

Are uninclined, forsooth, to part : 

The poor desire alluring gain, 

The rich desire to rich remain. 

Through sense man judgeth overmuch. 
But Faith reveals a dearer prize 

Than meeteth any human touch 
Or lieth under mortal eyes. 

Virtues are brighter, worthier gems 

Than fill the kingliest diadems, 

And Charity's the only gold 

That souls, to enter Heaven, need hold ! 



WORD AND DEED. 

The word flows forth from the brim of thought, 

" Persevere" it is, a mandate sage, 
From which the feeling of good is caught, 
If it fall on sense in firm truth taught. 
Like the anchor on its anchorage. 

The heart, as the sea, to perils wed. 

May e'er be touched by the hopeful word ; 
Yet what is the end when all is said. 
When the force of man is seeming dead, 
And his spirit ne'er to doing stirred ? 

In the godly deed the word 's fulfilled. 
The harbor is gained, the mine explored ; 

The book is writ and the farm is tilled, 

Salvation comes to the holy-willed. 

And work is done that pleases the Lord ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



I. 

AFFECTION FOR NATURE. 

The fervor of Love may be maddened, 
The heart of the lover be saddened, 

By the scorn of her he adored ; 
Earth's round may seem black to him. 
Till her love comes back to him, 

And clings to the soul it ignored ; 
But there 's an affection that maddens not. 
So calm in the heart that it saddens not. 
It quickens at home, and 'tis cherished abroad. 
For landscapes and waters where Nature is lord. 

The dew-drops that moisten the morning. 
The ocean, whose thunder-like warning 

Comes crashing from billowy brine — 
Creations that charmingly 
'Midst woodlands and mountains be. 

Are glorious lovers of mine ! 
Their converse exalts, and thoughts upheaving 
Pluck inspiration from sweets inweaving. 
And their mingled presences shadow and shine 
With beauty and majesty almost divine. 



A REMINISCENCE. 

Where brooklets sing 'mong rocks and sands, 

And grassy hillocks touch the tide, 
Where woody depth unpruned expands 

From mountain to the river-side, 
Where flaunts the breeze that bent the rose 

Within some unintruded bower, 
To coquet with the waves' repose 

And amplify their flashy power ; 
Where brightest hues adorn and flush 

The wild, yet sweet, endearing scene. 
O'er which the robin and the thrush 

Trill melody, the leaves between. 

And fly to airy realms serene. 
But strike an echo in the souls 
Of listeners, that joy controls — 
'Tis there loved recollections cling, 
'Tis there in thought I 'm wandering. 

Anear the spot whereon the village rears, 
So dear in childhood's hours, familiar still, 

A streamlet winds, supplied by highland tears, 
And moves the wheel that plies the ancient mill; 

O'erarched by mingling shrub and sturdy oak, 
With sister-trees and brakes of freshest mien, 



A REMINISCENCE, 69 

That fall beneath the stalwart woodman's stroke, 

Its purling waters animate the scene. 
Bright flowers are there, with fragrant beauty 
crowned. 

Wild vines among, untrimmed by human hand, 
Profusely clasp, in mazy structure bound, 

To ornament the yet unblemished land ! 
Here, 'mid the stones that throng the valley's base. 

And there, o'er pebbly beds and 'twixt small 
isles. 
The streamlet murmurs on untired apace. 

And seethes adown the forest's rocky piles, 
Till ev'ry eddy seems of magic mould. 

To fascinate the deep-embosomed dell. 
And flash and flow across the open wold, 

Past farmers' homes, where worth and kindness 
dwell. 
The tinted bloom, the leaflet and the thorn, 
The gracious skies that glorify the morn, 
A mem'ry bring, unlinked with spirit-pain, 
A mem'ry glad'ning as the linnet's strain. 

'Twas on a summer-day, and noon the hour. 
When round the school-room portal met 

Gay, blithesome hearts, in life's young op'ning 
flower. 
Each cheek with health's bright ruby set. 



70 A REMINISCENCE. 

A gala afternoon was promised all : 

Anticipation of much joy 
Illumed those spirits freed from learning's thrall, 

And lit the eyes of girl and boy 
With freedom's light — that quick, vivacious glow ! 

While o'er their sports the wild birds sang, 
And the answering choruses below 

Gave back a strain that aptly rang 
In bosoms used to Nature's simple song. 

To pleasure's lurements all resigned. 
True merriment beset that friendly throng, 

So learned in sport, though not in mind. 

But soon a deep and sudden hush was there, 

Like some great equatorial calm, 
When seamen furl the sails against the air 

And seas are free from billowy qualm. 
No dark-winged cloud athwart the sunshine came, 
No thunder-crash or darting lightning-flame : 
Amid the group in modesty appears 
A man of earnest eye and elder years. 

"We '11 to the brookside go," he kindly said 
( It was the master of the village school), 

"Where vines and branches mingle overhead. 
And ripples flash, as zephyrs cool 



A REMINISCENCE. 7 1 

Sweep ' neath the boughs, and o'er the mossy rim 

Waft health and music to the vale. 
I '11 read aloud of times to memory dim, 

And tell an interesting tale. 
Then all departed from the cherished space. 

Where late light sportiveness was seen ; 
And with a joyousness and gentle grace 

Proceeded to the bowers of green. 
Upon the slopes that bind and charm the stream 

The students 'round their tutor dear 
An auditory formed, as gleam on gleam 

Stole in from skies of brightest cheer. 
He read of mighty states and valiant men, 

And cited morals — with learned phrase 
Told of events unchronicled, and again 

Would vice condemn and virtue praise. 
The flow'rets blushed beside the streamlet wave, 
The trees stood motionless, and seeming grave ; 
Eve threw its shades about the woodland grand, 
As homeward sped that young and joyous band. 



From hills that o'er that lovely village rise 

The homes of comrade hearts greet well the 
eye; 

Some have returned to dust, some good and wise, 
Some merry and elate, some doomed to sigh ! 



72 A REMINISCENCE. 

No longer stands the olden school-house where 

The rustic youth were taught life's needful 
lore, 
No trace remains but stony fragments bare 

Of walls that sheltered hearts well-known of 
yore. 
Deep rolls the noble river, rural homes beside. 

And winging crafts sweep on where trade com- 
mands ; 
There lurks a music in its blue-tint tide. 

There 's gem-like brightness in its wave-washed 
sands ! 
Endearing memories of earlier days ! 

'Tis sweet on them to ponder, and to lift 
Once beauteous scenes again to mental gaze. 

As down life's stormy gulf the soul may drift : 
Spring's new-born freshness glories wood and 
stream, 

And Summer beauties tenderly adorn ; 
Autumnal hues o'er cliff and valley gleam. 

Stern Winter banishes the bloom-?-Spring-born, 
As passes by the proud and changeful year. 
Fraught oft with bliss and oft with sorrow's tear. 
Amid the world's engagements and decoys, 
Youth's recollections come and picture joys ! 



AUTUMN. 

'Tis Autumn, and the fresh green leaves 
• Grow yellow, pale and sear ; 
The grain is housed — packed up in sheaves- 
For wintry days are near. 

The blooming Summer-time has fled, 

And growing plants mature ; 
Jack Frost will soon uprear his head 

To torture rich and poor ! 



The fruits in tempting clusters cling. 

And lusciously they fall, 
As rough'ning winds the brown leaves fling 

On meadow, stream, and mall. 

The flowers in dying beauty hang 
Where erst they flourished sweet ; 

The birds, that on the tree-tops sang, 
Fly south on pinions fleet. 

The farmer gathers in his store 

That Industry supplies, 
And fondly looks the furrows o'er 

Where grew his Summer-prize. 



74 A WAIF. 

The varied hues of Autumn-time, 
How fair, yet sad are they — 

Embellishing the world sublime. 
And warning of decay ! 

O kindly season of the year, 

Though sadness robes you round, 

Abundance gives the warmth and cheer 
That in your heart is found ! 



A WAIF. 

Broad-cultured grounds, artistic, grand. 

Where lingers rich, exotic grace. 
Inspire not, as divinely planned ; 

No, no, 'tis in the forest-space — 
Where, unconfined, dear Nature smiles — 

That scenes appear, by Mem'ry kept : 
Firm as the beauteous tropic isles. 

By billows of the ocean swept ! 



A WALK IN WINTER. 

The hills rose, in seeming, contritely, 

The village reposed on the plain ; 
And its homes, the grand and unsightly, 

Were nurturing gladness and pain, 
When out in the sunshine I wandered, 

As icicles fell from the eaves ; 
And earnestly, heartily pondered 

O'er life, and the doom it receives. 

Ay ! tender and calm I reflected 

O'er landscapes enshrouded in snows. 
Where, by the Almighty directed. 

The eyes of the flow'rets unclose. 
And thought of the souls whose long sorrows 

Ne'er leave them, as snowdrifts the sod — 
Who dread the unfathomed to-morrows, 

Save that one which gives them to God. 

Neat dwellings and rickety hovels 

Reached down to the river's steep side — 
The one like a menial that grovels. 

The other a servant of pride. 
Ah ! faces there were that looked haggard. 

As they peered from weather-torn doors. 
Past which the gay opulent swaggered, 

Like strangers from happier shores. 



76 A WALK IN WINTER. 

On pathways by Boreas beaten, 

Lay December's aqueous gems, 
But their gleam the scene could not sweeten 

Like the brightness of blossoming stems. 
Nay ! not even the little winged creatures, 

That flitted so innocent near. 
Could revive the angelic features 

That mark the fresh bloom of the year. 

That high joy of the soul was wanting, 

By beauty permitted and given. 
And a wish my bosom was haunting 

That this earth be more like to Heaven ; 
But I gazed on the dissolute father — 

His wife, in her famished abode — 
Their children, who shyly would gather 

The brambles that burdened the road. 

I saw the poor man at his labor. 

The rich with his trappings and bells, 
The meeting of neighbor and neighbor — 

The smile of old friendship, that tells 
Of heart scenes and merrisome places 

In the May of Memory's land — 
Of loved ones, whose beautiful faces 

By seraphs in Heaven are scanned ! 



A WALK IN WINTER. 77 

The woodlands, all leafless and dreary, 

No dreamers allured to ^heir aisles ; 
Not even the houseless man weary, 

Who trudges his tortuous miles. 
Dark crows on the tree-tops were cawing — 

Methinks their sharp discord I hear, 
And the thought to my spirit is drawing 

A sadness that urges a tear. 

I paused on a rock of the highland, 

The vastness of Nature to scan ; 
And beheld in mainland and island 

The earthly arena of man. 
And as the clear sunbeams enlightened 

The gaunt, naked forms of the wood, 
Their aspect seemed deathly and frightened, 

Though ever unconscious they stood. 

What a chill encompassed the distance, 

What a coldness bordered the sky ! 
No roses to garland existence. 

And mingle their fragrance, and die. 
There river and mountain and valley 

Full frostily, icily spread ; 
But the verdure, awaiting its rally, 

Was hid with humanity's dead ! 



BANKS OF BLOOM. 

They rise above the wave, 

Those banks of bloom ; 
And to the hearts that crave 

Relief from gloom 
No sweeter charm is given 
To lift from earth to Heaven, 

Than that which fills 

Those fragrant hills. 

Peep out the mossy rocks, 

Flower garlanded ; 
Sprinkled with four-o'clocks 

And clover red, 
Spreads grass of early Summer; 
Pleasant to every comer 

Is the hewn seat 

In yon retreat. 

There live collective loves. 

There roses throng, 
And lilies wake like doves 

In airs of song ! 
Their petals, seeming winglets. 
Flutter amidst the ringlets 

Of trailing vine 

And eglantine. 



BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. 79 

The cottage porch in view, 

Between the trees, 
The sunshine breaking through. 

The birds and bees 
And human peaceful voices — 
In such the soul rejoices — 

They bless, illume, 

Those banks of bloom ! 



BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. 

Buds and blossoms, buds and blossoms- 
First bright off'rings of the year — 

Bathed in raindrops, all your bosoms, 
Burst within the sunlight clear. 

Joyously my heart-voice greets ye — 
Buds and blossoms, as I gaze 

On your unenduring beauty. 
Harbingers of sunny days ! 

Nature's sweet and ripening treasure 
Shyly to the world appears ; 

Soon 'twill be of fullest measure, 
Laughingly, oft dripping tears ! 



8o BUDS AND BLOSSOMS. 

Beauteous tints in blushing glory- 
Grace the woodland and the mead : 

Golden, green, and colors gory- 
Kindest admiration plead. 

Strong-limbed trees, and bush, and bramble, 

Spring-tide's gorgeous mantles wear; — 
How I love betimes to ramble 

'Mid the blooming wild-wood fair! 
Brooklets sparkle still more brightly 

As they dash o'er moss and stone ; 
Human hearts beat cheerful, lightly. 

Earth seems glad, harsh winds have flown. 

Fleet-winged birds, on branches singing. 

Tune their voices sweetest now ; 
For the buds green leaves are bringing, 

And the blossoms fruitful grow. 
See the valleys and the meadows, 

Dipped in fragrance all their own, 
Granting sunlight-circled shadows 

To this season-changing zone ! 

Friendly showers, the heavens resigning, 
Buds and blossoms freshly lave — 

Softly pure, of blest designing. 
Smiling o'er their annual grave. 



CLOCK AND CANARY. 8l 

Smiling round the gaudy palace, 
Smiling round the cottage fair — 

On the cliffs, and up the trellis, 
Buds and blossoms everywhere ! 

Just above the grass-tops growing, 

Peep the tender infant flowers ; 
Ev'ry little leaflet glowing 

In its peaceful pristine bowers. 
Within the heart, Hope, full cheery, 
* Radiates the spirit-gloom : 
Earthly scenes are never dreary 

In the rapture of their bloom ! 



CLOCK AND CANARY. 

A clock stands on a mantel-shelf, 

With pulse of sounding power ; 
Companion of aesthetic delf, 

It clearly tells the hour. 
So silvery sweet its utt'rance is, 

From stroke of one to twelve. 
Within its monotone of bliss 

Might dwell a minstrel-elve. 



82 COME TO THE HARVEST FIELDS. 

A bright canary in a cage 

Lists to the tale of time, 
Its throat is full of music's rage 

Till ends the clock its chime. 
Swells forth the burden of the bird, 

Nature answering Art : 
Lesser 's the music only heard 

Than that which fills the heart. 



COME TO THE HARVEST FIELDS. 

Come to the harvest fields. 

My spirit-bride. Poesy, 
Come where the ripe earth yields 

Her wealth, so regal and free. 

Come to the paths once strewn 

With jocund hope of Spring, 
With Summer's glorious boon. 

Come where brown Autumn is king. 

The scene is somber, yet 

It seems sublimer to me 
Than when the young blooms met 

And smiled from inland to sea. 



COME TO THE HARVEST FIELDS. 83 

O'er loved graves in the vale, 

Sacred to sigh and to tear, 
I gaze abroad, and hail 

The signs of the dying year. 



Thou light'st my soul the while, 
Sweet spirit-bride ! and I see 

Grandeurs in every mile 
Of mountain, river and lea. 



The mountains admonish 

The great, the high and the proud : 
' Seek not to astonish 

With transient splendors endowed ! " 



The dales in sadly soft 

Tones speak from their dearth of flowers 
' Thd lowly may look aloft. 

And theirs are the calmest hours." 



O'er Nature, as o'er Man, 

Passes change, sweet spirit-bride ; 
And Autumn's deathly ban 

Dooms Summer's beauty and pride. 



EVENING REVERIES. 

When sunlight vanishes beyond the west, 

And crimson tints still linger in the skies, 
Reflection soothes the mind to quiet rest, 

Alluring kind and worthy reveries. 
My lonely room with twilight fantasies 

Seems suffused ; the stars like bright sparks 
appear, 
And the moon arises o'er hills and trees. 

Flooding the heavens with tender beams and 
clear. 

Viewless becomes the landscape robed in flowers, 

And verdant shapes by darkness vailed are 
there ; 
The watch-dog in his cozy kennel cowers, 

The birdling's note is lost upon the air ; 
The chirp of insects and the fire-fly's glare 

Invade the night — made varied by their glees 
Throughout the woodlands and the gardens fair — 

Instill the mind with dreamy reveries. 

Thoughts shaped in the solitude of even — 
All Nature slumbering in tranquil shade, 

'Neath the modest light of star-lit heaven — 
Are toned to gentle themes that ne'er degrade. 



EVENING REVERIES. 85 

The world is to the intellect displayed 
In its bright relief and gloomy phase ; 

Sweet, beaming joy is shone — quickly to fade — 
Ah ! then woe's dread portraitures amaze ! 

Before the fancy pass swift-changing scenes 
Of human-kind in close and earnest strife 

For aggrandizement — careless of the means ; 
Then nations battle, rend'ring life for life : 
The tumult clashes — see the anxious wife 

With hope and dread her suff'ring heart en- 
thralled. 
Oh, joy ! the mind 's with blissful visions rife. 

Oh, gloom ! the mind 's again with woe appalled. 

Youth's rashness and experience of age. 

Deep musings philosophical evoke. 
And gazing on the past's well-studied page, 

Keen sense revives — the reverie is broke ! 
The moon 's in the zenith, no storm-clouds cloak 

Its mild effulgence, shedding ray on ray. 
No sounds pervade the bramble or the oak, 

For midnight silence rules with transient sway. 



JUNE. 

O skies and fields and airs of June, 
Your harmonies my soul attune, 
As blithe through verdant bowers I stray, 
To view the charms of youthful day. 

O skies of azure and of light, 
Your glories may no tempest blight ! 
In beauty so serene and warm, 
Unconscious-like of cloud or storm. 

O fields luxuriant, streamlet-spanned. 
How lavishly ye grace the land, 
And bloom — for fancy and for me — 
Meet queens to mountain majesty ! 

O airs, with health and perfume filled. 
With music sweetly, wildly thrilled. 
Ye soothe my spirit like the song 
And incense of a holy throng! 

And here, amid the summer-glow, 
While chants the brook-tide, bubbling low, 
Far, far away from sorrow's croon. 
My heart outswells in love of June ! 



MORNING-GLORIES. 

Decking, with their sister-blooms, 

Garden, grove, and lawn ; 
Flushing Nature's verdant rooms, 

Lit by early dawn. 
Morning-glories strew the land. 
Clinging upward, zephyr-fanned. 

Pretty, in profusion wild. 

Twining 'midst the trees. 
Peeping out where rocks compiled 

Sentinel the leas, 
Morning-glories taste the clime, 
Searing with the Summer-time. 

Children wreathe them into crowns, 

Crimson, purple, blue ; 
Maidens cull them for their gowns. 

Thoughtless what they do ; 
For ere the nightly damps descend. 
Decay despoils, and breezes rend I 

Pleasures rule the dance and feast, 

Pleasures flow with wine; 
But oh ! methinks they are increased 

Where morning-glories shine ; 
There Peace and Health their sweets unfold 
Around the hills, adown the wold ! 



NATURE AND ART. 
I. 

I tread dear Nature's glowing solitude, 
And around me bright inspiration beams, 

Engendering fancies. Benignly rude 

It is: green brakes, and dales, and moss-bound 
streams. 

Unused to mortal trespass, blossom-strewed, 
A welcome give to light and happy dreams. 

Gray mountains, robust, craggy and sublime. 
Cleave lightsome clouds, and whiten far above; 

As lofty as in Earth's created prime, 

Unmoved by blasts that devastate the grove. 

The sky in softest tint and grace appears. 
High o'er the glories of the pristine realm ; 

Celestial brightness ev'ry space endears. 

As flow'rets smile 'neath shades of oak and elm. 

Uprise the tinctured and complacent hills. 
To guard the beauties of the vales below ; 

And adown their gorges the sweet-toned rills 
In crystalline purity dash and flow. 



NATURE AND ART. 89 

The creatures of the woods, to freedom born, 
Around their native wild unfrightened roam ; 

Man dwells apart, and the hunter's horn 
Thrills not the caverns of their forest-home. 



Down to the haunts of flowers my vision strays, 
And verdant depths ecstatic thoughts allure ; 

My heart throbs light, and gives to God fond 
praise 
For all the bloom, so sunny-hued and pure. 

Cliff, plain and river, slope and grassy glade. 
Combine their charms, and verify my dreams 

Of peace and bliss, as foams the swift cascade 
O'er rocks, through meadow-land, with con- 
stant gleam. 

Yes ! here in grand old Nature's wide-spread 
wild 

I listen to the strains that heavenward rise, 
And muse, and wish myself as undefiled 

As this lone scene, of worldly things unwise ! 



90 NATURE AND ART. 



II. 



I view thy chiseled piles, O gracious Art, 

Lavish with arches, towers, and shining spires ; 

And gaze on palace, mansion-house and mart. 
Reared for man's solace, and his great desires. 

Proud homes appear, of timber and of stone. 
And ornaments adorn, of scarce design : 

The peasant's cottage, modest and alone, 
A contrast gives, as o'er it creeps the vine. 

Genius here its mighty labor spreads — 

Glorious the outline, and the inner space — 

Painting a spirit-influence ever sheds, 
And Sculpture lends to all a noble grace. 

Oh, would that Happiness ungrieved could dwell 
Where beauteous Art holds temporary reign — 

Contention's clouds forever to dispel, 

And Charity, Hope, Love and Truth retain ! 

Trim work of man — flattering to his pride ! 

I 'd fain desert your cold, unconscious walls, 
And in Nature's haunts, luxuriant and wide. 

Dream 'mong forest-shades, hills, and water- 
falls ! 



OCTOBER. 

October, hail ! I see thy sign, 

So heraldic of Nature's woe. 
In things that darkle, things that shine, 

Anear, afar, above, below. 

The forest seems a mighty flame. 

Whose leafy sparks gleam down the air, 

And huddle, in their dying shame, 

'Midst hills and vales, and here and there. 

And o'er the heart an influence steals. 
Not gay, nor yet of bitter grief, 

But such methinks the oak-tree feels. 
When parting with its first dead leaf ! 

Sonorous, on the matin-breeze, • 

Come sounds from o'er the river-waves ; 

Now loud, then less'ning by degrees, 
Like lives, that end in distant graves. 

O thoughtful time ! October, thee 
I deem the mentor of the year ; 

For thou its grandest change doth see. 
And smil'st its smile, and shed'st its tear. 



92 OCTOBER DAYS. 

And mem'ries that reposed in Spring, 

And slept throughout the Summer's glow, 

Awake, and ope their wings, and fling 
Their pliant shadows 'cross my brow. 

Then come, October, when thou wilt, 

Magnificent beneath the sun ; 
The heavens are with thy glory gilt, 

Dies on Earth's breast her beauteous one! 



OCTOBER DAYS. 

These days of thought — October days — 

In seeming melancholy reign, 
While woods and fields are all ablaze 

With redd'ning leaves and sallow grain. 
Yet they are days of plenitude, 

Of harvesting and social cheer. 
Though dead leaves rustle in the wood. 

And hearts bemoan the less'ning year. 

The limpid brooks wind down the vales 

From fountains born 'neath woodland crests ; 

And rivers, flecked with glowing sails. 
Float Autumn-treasures on their breasts. 



OCTOBER DAYS. 93 

Strong labor's tools are placed apart, 
And heaped, repose the harvest-pride — 

The glory of the wealthy mart. 
While traffic opes its portals wide. 

Where are the flowers, the darling flowers. 

That fragrant grew the paths along? 
Where are the birds that thrilled the bowers, 

And made them heavenly with song? 
Ask, ask the north-wind, cold and shrill. 

That lurks the mountain-slopes anear ; 
'Twill tell it was the coming chill 

That caused them all to disappear. 

The grandeur of the fading wild 

Exalts the mind to nobler themes 
Than when the tender Summer smiled, 

And inspiration came of dreams. 
For, as the fallen foliage lies. 

Commingled with the lowly clod. 
Mankind may well philosophize 

And meditate where beauty trod. 

Unrobing in the sunset ray, 

Proud Nature stands in beggared plight, 
Her mantle riven by decay, 

Once glossed with essence-hues of light. 



94 OLD MANSIONS. 

How sad above hill, dale and shore, 
The wildwood seems to mortal gaze, 

As live their transient lives once more 
These solemn, grand October days ! 



OLD MANSIONS. 

(In the City.) 

Like pearls among opals they 're scattered- 
The staid mansion houses of old ; 

Amidst high-built palaces mingled. 
They modestly stand with the bold. 

But their wide fair acres and woodlands — 
Their fresh rural settings no more 
Draw the traveler's eye as before : 

A grass-plot is all in the frontage 
That tells of the glories they wore. 



Some hold the quaint forms that their founders 
Designed in the taste of their day, 

And others are tricked with strange beauty — 
New faces are placed on decay ! 



ON THE LAKE. 95 

Yet the heart embraces that quaintness — 
This fine affectation repels, 
And thus into utterance swells : 

Preserved be those old mansion-houses ; 
Be not fashioned of matrons belles ! 

They reveal the ancient affection, 

They reveal the family-love ; 
Their whiteness, with darknesses mingled, 

Is the prettiness of the dove. 
As pearls are the old mansion houses, 

As opals the carved palace-domes. 

In the city of crowded homes — 
In the great and the island-city. 

Of lowliest, princeliest domes. 



ON THE LAKE. 

Swift o'er the lake the light boat moves, 

With Youth and Beauty freighted, 
Past shrubby headlands, floral coves, 

So picturesquely mated — 
Past rustic houses on the shore, 

And lovers roving, resting, 
And children gath'ring more and more, 

The slopes and arches cresting. 



96 REASON AND FANCY. 

The sky is of a cloudless blue — 

The waters ripple brightly ; 
The boatman dips his paddles true — 

They sparkling rise, and lightly ; 
And now in sunshine, now in shade. 

While gliding hither, thither. 
Sweet Youth and Beauty, Heaven-made, 

A Heaven make together ! 

Anon they step upon the land, 

A land of Summer-glory ; 
No blight before, on either hand, 

No scenes decayed or hoary ; 
But all is green, and grand, and bright, 

And Youth and Beauty roaming 
Down od'rous dale, up healthful height, 

Rejoice until the gloaming. 



REASON AND FANCY. 

What causes constant change of season. 

From torrid heat to polar cold ? 
" Earth's revolutions," answers Reason — 
" So teach the scientists enrolled. 



REASON AND FANCY. 97 

Thus in a uniform gradation, 

Pass Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring, 
And Time speeds on, as turns creation. 

The spheres their orbits wandering." 



'^ Thou sayest true, O brother Reason," 

Quoth Fancy, in her noon repose ; 
" But then the features of each season 

Just sentiments to me disclose : 
Mark thou the beauty of the moral 

That comes from pleasure of the brain. 
Like wide and rising realms of coral 

From out the deep and wayward main : — 

Of the birth of hope Springtide telleth, 

And Summer of its rip'ning time ; 
Sere Autumn to the mind compelleth 

Hope's flush or fall, as rules the clime. 
Hope sleeps, as slumbers earth's bright treasure. 

When Winter chills the plain and mount ; 
It burns anew in lofty measure 

As, disenthralled, bursts flower and fount.' 



RUSTIC SCENES. 

Queen Nature, with inviting grace, 

Holds court 'mid rustic scenes ; 
And there, while glows her Summer-face, 
Sweet odors rise, and fill the place, 
And joy the spirit gleans. 

Oh, cheering time of birds and flowers, 

When winds no longer moan ; 
Sojourning 'mong deep-shaded bowers. 
The moments glide to blithesome hours, 
And bright is Nature's throne. 

Proud summits, clothed in robes of green, 
With rocks and forests high. 

Rear, in magnificence terrene ; 

While foliage forms a grateful screen 
Against the burning sky. 

The plains, with grass-tops dipped in dew, 

Where cattle freely roam. 
Are decked with flowers of every hue 
That 'neath the firmament of blue 

Adorn the farmer's home. 



SCENE AND SEASON. 99 

Vales, musical with many streams, 

Cling to the mountain-side, 
Where romance lures the soul to dreams, 
As beauty entertains the gleams 

By sun and brook supplied. 

Long, winding paths, with roses strewn, 

Emit their scented charms. 
And at the sultry hour of noon, 
When quiet seems a blessed boon. 

There 's rest in Nature's arms ! 



SCENE AND SEASON. 

I trod a scene where cold decay 
Had saddened all the land ; 

In mountain clasp reposed a bay, 
In mine a trusty hand ; 

And I said : " Friend, let 's flee away 
To realms more greenly grand." 

To counsel is not to reprove ; 
" Nay ! tarry here," he said. 
And 'wait the blooming of the grove- 

The bursting from the dead 
Of glorious verdure, 'woke and wove 

By Nature's God and Head." 



SONG OF THE MOWERS. 

I tread the scene I trod before — 
Oh, gladsome is the change ! 

And,life's bright train in triumph soar 
Throughout the airy range, 

And clamber up the brilliant shore, 
And laugh around the grange. 

My soul is lifted, and the da3^s 

Are lessened of alloy ; 
Along the flower-illumined ways 

No dark-winged blasts annoy ; 
And peace, blest peace my spirit sways, 

And lightens it with joy ! 



SONG OF THE MOWERS. 

Let us go unto the mowing, 
For the eastern sky is glowing 

With the morn ; 
Dull drowsiness shall not be ours. 
While fields and dales are bright with flowers, 

Grass and corn ; 
No, no, grasp firm the scythe and sickle — 
Though toil-drops down our foreheads trickle, 
To labor we were born. 



SONG OF THE MOWERS. lOI 

Our garments are uncouth and coarse, 
But then our breasts know not remorse 

For wrong deeds. 
We swing our many steels full keen, 
And sever all the blades of green 

On the meads ; 
And grasping firm the scythe and sickle, 
We feel, as toil-drops brightly trickle, 
We labor for our needs. 

The Summer is our time of joy. 
When Nature's scenes young hearts decoy- 
Wide and grand. 
Oh, let us cheer our work with song. 
And while the echoes sound along 

Down the land. 
Let 's firmly grasp the scythe and sickle, 
And feel, as toil-drops warmly trickle, 
New vigor in each hand. 

Our modest homes are ever blent 
With gentleness and true content, 

'Mid life's blast. 
List, list unto the cheerful call 
Of voices by the garden wall — 

To repast. 
Let fall the flashing scythe and sickle. 
Dash off the toil-drops as they trickle— 
We've mown the field at last ! 



SUMMER. 

Fair Summer speeds over the earth 

In the chariot of Time, 
And fosters the wakening worth 
Of all its verdure sublime. 
The meadovi^s grow greener, 
The heavens serener, 
And purer the changing clime. 

Its paths, with the Beautiful strewn, 

Spread far from highland to sea, 
And taste the soft brightness of June, 
And thrill with its melody ; 
Alluring the lover 
Of solitude over. 
To where sips the gauze-winged bee ! 

The flow'rets their eyelids unclose, 

And gaze askance and around ; 
The lily peeps shyly ; the rose 

Seems proud, though blushing profound; 
And the fleet warblers fly 
On the breath of July, 
And brooks sing low to the ground. 



SUNNYSIDE. 103 

The heart is delighted, nor feels, 

As glowing August revives, 
The impulse of sorrow, till steals 
Fair Summer away, and gyves 
Of the Frost King surround. 
Ah ! then earth seems a mound — 
A chill comes over our lives ! 



SUNNYSIDE. 

Residence of Washington Irving. 

Surrounded by the beauteous wild. 
In sweet seclusion, stands the home 

Of Genius' truly gifted child. 

More dear to heart than prouder dome. 

The emerald paths and shaded bowers 
That smile upon fair Sunnyside 

Enchant its antiquated towers, 

As landscapes spread in blooming pride. 

Those ancient walls to memory bring 
The grand old Knickerbocker time, 

As ivy tendrils fondly cling 

And romance blends its charms sublime. 



I04 SWEET SUMMER-TIME HAS FLED. 

The brook's low murmur fills the breeze, 
Deep-glittering torrents wildly pour ; 

And songsters twitter 'mong the trees 

That, vernal-hued, crown Hudson's shore. 

There Irving shaped the glowing tale, 
And wielded the historic pen ; 

There calmness rules the flowery vale, 
The gentle slope and rocky glen. 

The home that Irving loved so well 
Shows forth in all its former bloom : 

Alas ! 'tis but a broken spell. 

For Irving sleeps within the tomb 



SWEET SUMMER-TIME H..S FLED. 

Sweet Summer-time has fled, 
And Summer-flowers are dead ; 
Breezes sing their shrill refrains. 
Autumn breathes upon the plains, 
Garnered are the golden grains 
From chilly Winter's tread. 



SWEET SUMMER-TIME HAS FLED. 

Trees don their varied hues, 
Their dead the pathway strews : 
Glowing in the grand sunlight, 
Mingling in dear beauty's blight, 
Simple leaves teach morals bright, 
And stimulate the muse ! 



The hills' high-arching crests, 
The vales, where Nature rests, 

Relinquish green, and sad appear; 
Old Time controls, with gloomy bier, 
The burial of the smiling year, 
Of change to many breasts. 



Sweet Summer-time has fled : 

Gone, gone the bloomy spread, 

That raised to hope the saddened heart. 
And shattered even sorrow's dart — 
How soon all mundane charms depart — 

The leaves are crisp and dead ! 



THE AUTUMN MOON. 

Mellowy beams the Autumn moon 

Over the land, over the sea, 
Cresting with light the waves that soon 

Dark tempest-swept billows may be. 

The sails that seaward slowly rise 

Arrest its light in every fold, 
As, 'midst the grand autumnal skies, 

Gleam out the stars like waifs of gold. 

Glittering on the silent plain — 

Varied in hues by Boreas' breath — 

Its rays a transient charm retain, 

And light the verdure's bed of death. 

The mountain-peaks are silvered o'er, 
And rear as specters of the night ; 

The waterfalls, that swiftly pour. 

Flash 'mong the shadows wildly bright. 

Peaceful shines o'er land and sea 
The radiance of the Autumn moon ; 

Oh ! 'tis a thing of sympathy, 

Oh ! 'tis a sweet and joyous boon. 



THE HUDSON HIGHLANDS. 

O heights ! where Romance holds her shrine, 

Where poet-painter loves to dream ; 
Abodes of beauty, grand, benign, 

How nobly crown ye Hudson's stream. 
Your heads with woodland covered o'er. 

Your slopes and vales and gushing rills, 
Contented smile, with bounteous store 

Of fruits and flowers — O native hills ! 

When Spring with budding promise smiles. 

When warmth pervades where King Frost 
reigned, 
And earth breaks from his cunning wiles. 

The Highlands teem with verdure gained. 
Blue glows the sky above those forms. 

Fresh start the pastures from their sleep. 
As foliage, caged by wintry storms, 

Bursts forth on plain and craggy steep. 

The sun of Summer gently pours 

A genial heat o'er ripening fields. 
And clouds, anon, give pleasant showers, 

By which productive fortune yields. 



Io8 THE HUDSON HIGHLANDS. 

The farmers' thanks ascend on high, 

And brooks vouchsafe their bubbling lays ; 

'Neath leafy trees, where zephyrs sigh, 
The shadows sport with solar rays. 



Kind Autumn's cheer brings Winter's chill. 

And all in icy grasp is bound ; 
The river flows with mighty will, 

Glittering in its course profound. 
A snowy mantle wraps the land, 

The Highlands bow to season's whim ; 
Up-tow'ring still above the strand, 

Their charms are changed, but never dim. 

The Rhine may boast of crumbling art — 

Proud relics of an age gone by, 
Of scenery that elates the heart, 

And fascinates the mind and eye. 
Deep-rolling Hudson claims e'en more, 

For Nature offers the sublime. 
And grants the prestige to her shore, 

Enduring as the world and time. 



THE HUDSON RIVER. 

O River of resplendent life, 

Thee buoyantly I sing; 
And to thy native glories rife 

Fond recognition bring. 

'Mong rocks and bowers, past grove and 
grange, 

The Hudson rolls in pride ; 
Majestic is the bloomy range 

That binds its mighty tide. 

Behold its bosom, sail-bedecked ; 

Its borders, woodland-crowned ; 
Behold the far-off heights erect, 

The arching sky and ground ! 

Walls, chiseled by fair Nature's hand. 

Defy the shocks of Time ; 
They rise above the brilliant strand, 

As barricades sublime. 

The Palisades unbending tower; 

The Highlands, gray or green, 
Complacent stand, as things of power — 

The nestling vales between. 



no THE HUDSON RIVER. 

The vision drinks the landscaped view 

With ecstasy enthralled ; 
The mountain-tops melt 'mid the blue, 

By wide horizon walled. 



No dark and tott'ring ruins grace 
Each promontory's brow ; 

Dear Beauty beams in Nature's face, 
Unrivaled in its glow ! 



Rich domes surmount the monarch hills. 

The cottage lies below ; 
From far-off fountains many rills 

Down to the river flow. 



Upon its wild, romantic banks. 
Art swiftly hues its way, 

And boldly thins the forest ranks 
Where songsters greet the day. 



The produce of the fertile West 
Finds passage to the coast ; 

The ocean billows smoothly rest. 
And in its calm are lost. 



THE HUDSON RIVER, HI 

The woodman's song full joyous swells 

Along the peaceful shore ; 
Neat villages usurp the dells, 

The heights are peopled o'er ! 

The cattle stray along the brink, 

That Hudson's waters lave ; 
They stoop in quietude, and drink 

From brooks that swell its wave. 



The red man never more shall hold 

This river of his sires ; 
No, no, his birthright now is sold, 

And quenched the council-fires ! 



Brave Science walks the varied land, 
And hopeful Honor strives ; 

Civilization lifts its wand, 

Yet Nature's charm survives ! 



Sweet Flora plants her children on 
The slopes that meet the wave ; 

The flow'rets blush, and fade anon 
Into the earth that gave. 



112 THE HUDSON RIVER. 

Amid those scenes by Romance lit, 

The ardent brain is fired : 
The painter's touch grows exquisite, 

The poet wakes inspired. 

When Night shades mountains, dales, and 
meres. 

And flame her lanterns far. 
In bord'ring homes each lamp-light cheers- 

The rival of each star ! 

Oh, oft have lovers told their love 
, Beside this cherished stream ; 

And o'er its banks together rove, 
When youth seems as a dream. 

Live, live, ye bursting woodland springs, 

That Hudson's tide supply ! 
Fly, fly, ye crafts, on breeze-swept wings, 

Smile bright above, O sky ! 

Thou River, grand and mountain-born, 

That Genius loves to scan. 
Roll on, till angel-trumpets warn, 

A proud delight to man ! 



THE SOLITARY STREAM. 

This lonely stream, of current free, 

Blends not its waters with the sea. 

But, rambling through the rough-shaped wild, 

Is by a river far beguiled. 

It comes from yonder mountain's brow, 

With lofty peak and crown of snow : 

As, rushing on its bright career, 

No kindred stream comes laughing near. 

'Tis oftentimes some one of sport, 
For game with ill-success has sought, 
And wanders here with gleaming hook 
To dip within a favored nook ; 
As sunbeams play upon the waves. 
Beneath o'ershadowing oak, that braves 
The scathing storms and years of time, 
And lifts aloft its form sublime ! 

On mossy banks of gaudy trim, 
That bind tliis place where fishes swim, 
The radiant wilci-flowers gently greet 
With perfume ever charming, sweet. 
How graceful move, in liquid pride. 
Those waters free from ocean tide — 
Their fertilizing gifts dispose. 
And make all blooming as the rose. 



THE SPRING SHOWER. 

The shower I see and sing 
Is not of burning days — 

It comes to freshen Spring, 
T 'enliven wildwood ways. 

Laving the spirits of air, 

It quickens blooms that grow 

Here on the hill, and there 
O'er the acres below. 

Frosts soften in the land 

Beneath this melting shower ; 

Each cloud 's a vapor-hand, 
Each drop its liquid poweh 

Now sunshine, bursting down, 
Congratulates green earth : 

Oh, heart ! cast sorrow's gown 
And robe thyself in mirth. 

From buds hang rainy gems. 
They jewel leaf and grass. 

Blithe birds on many stems 
Chant matins as I pass. 



THE SUMMER RAIN. 

A blessing from God is ttie summer rain, 
Refreshing the world, whose dryness is pain. 
The earth woos the clouds when tired of the sun, 
Whose love 's too ardent ere Summer is done, 
And pleads for affection tempered by tears, 
For shadow mingled with shimmer of years. 

O merciful rain ! the verdure is drenched. 
And the thirst of panting Nature is quenched. 
Man looks o'er his fields of tillage revived, 
The landscape smiles forth like a sinner shrived ; 
The brooks are aflow and the full streams run 
Through scenes lit again by earth's glory — the sun. 



THE VALLEY SPRING. 

Where hillsides in luxuriance meet, 

And gardens gay the hill-tops crown, 
One morn I walked amid the wheat, 

And wandered to the valley down. 
The birds sang forth their wildest strains 

As greeting to the infant day, 
And kine fed on adjacent plains 

Till milk-time called them all away. 



Il6 THE VALLEY SPRING. 

Companions came to share the cheer 

That ev'ry space of bloom inspired : 
How sweet then seemed — that they were near — 

Each knoll and slope and nook retired ! 
Some in the shade renewed their sport, 

And some the boat urged o'er the stream, 
While I a peaceful arbor sought, 

To meditate and, mayhap, dream. 

There gleamed hard by a ceaseless spring. 

Encircled in unfading moss, 
That from the rocks came filtering, 

Unlessened by its liquid loss= 
Twas shaded by a chestnut's boughs 

Whose roots hung down and gently sank : 
A spot, forsooth, for friendship's vows, 

For ev'ry race, for ev'ry rank ! 

I sat the valley spring beside. 

And viewed the bright, surrounding bowers ; 
And thought how the Almighty guide 

Had beautified this earth of ours. 
There came upon the perfumed air 

The lab'rers' song, fresh from the heart ; 
It taught me virtue's gifts to share, 

And ne'er from simple scenes depart. 



THE WOODLAND BRIDGE. II7 

Between the woodland's spreading arms 

The sunshine gUstened on the wave ; 
The spring suppHed a thousand charms, 

And, prism-like, mingling colors gave. 
The glitter of grand palace halls 

Could not its brilliancy outshine, 
Nor many brooches worn at balls, 

Nor even glowing, festive wine ! 

The rocks, the trees and velvet sod. 

Were fraught with an engaging power ; 
I felt it was the hand of God 

That gave them as a precious dower. 
The valley spring is gushing yet. 

And courts the glory of the sky : 
I left it with a fond regret, 

And love it, though it is not nigh. 



THE WOODLAND BRIDGE. 

Apart from the village, in the woodland, 

Spanning a wide ravine. 
Above the brook's volume, rurally planned, 

An olden bridge is seen. 
There oftentimes I rest, 
When sunshine fills the west, 

To list to songs attuned 'mid haunts of green. 



Il8 THE WOODLAND BRIDGE. 

From brink to brink, it arches o'er the glen, 

Of rustic form, more dear ; 
The squirrel skips in timid awe of men, 

And quick, instinctive fear. 
There friends united meet. 
To memories repeat, 

While Peace reigns mistress of the woody 
sphere. 



The forest trees in multitudes arise, 

And at their feet smile flowers ; 
Paths wind among, unseen by Summer-skies, 

From the bridge to the bowers ; 
The brook-tide murmurs songs. 
Each bedded rock prolongs 

The cadence soft, thrilling the peaceful hours. 



Fair rears the woodland round that lone bridge 
rude — 

Blest spot where joys agree ! 
There 's loveliness within the solitude 

Of grassy vale and tree ; 
There shines a tender sheen. 
Above that deep ravine. 

That lifts the soul to sentiment and glee. 



THE NEW YEAR. 

Full many years have come and gone, 
Since Order out of Chaos came ; 

Still roll the years sublimely on, 

Through light and darkness, shade and 
flame. 



Hope fondles to her heart the New, 
And Memory enshrines the Old ; 

'Twas youthful, hopeful, glowing too. 
Till griefs o'erflecked its locks of gold. 

The cottage and the palace beam, 
And wars are 'feebled 'midst the joy 

That laughs the New Year in, and seem 
Too unimpassioned to destroy ! 

Methinks in ev'ry breast there beats 

A universal throb of cheer ; 
And ev'ry voice the prayer repeats : 

" O God, be this a glad New Year!" 



THE YEAR'S CLOSE. 

May thanks to God in echoing words 
Resound throughout the sphere ; 

And, though we miss the Summer birds, 
Be ours a constant cheer — 

For plenty Mother Terra girds, 
And blessings close the year. 



The vales are sad, the mountains mourn, 

And Nature bows to blight ; 
Her beauties have been crushed and torn 

Yet, glitt'ring in the light, 
High granaries of golden corn 

Gild Winter's dreary flight. 



The fiend of War from hence afar 
Has flown, a monster thing, 

Proud Europe's homes to mar and scar, 
And o'er them swoop its wing ; 

But Peace is still the trustful star 
Of subject and of king! 



THE YEAR S CLOSE. 

An era has begun for man 
Wherein he will be known 

By self-deeds circling round a plan, 
As angels round the Throne ; 

And true they'll be who in the van 
Win honor as their own. 



O Faith, Hope, Love, and all ye charms, 

Seraphic and sublime. 
That hearts console when swift alarms 

Come clashing on with crime, 
Your rosy light imbues and warms 

The vital flood of time. 



Then roll, brave years, in holier train, 

And fewer be the groans 
Of human-kind by brethren slain — 

Be filled with happy tones ; 
And, oh, rejoice to view amain 

The fall of Vice's thrones ! 



VIOLETS AND PANSIES. 

Far above the glowing river, 

Where dear Nature plies her loom, 

Smiling upward to the Giver, 
Violets and pansies bloom ; 

Soon beneath the snow to shiver, 
Beauteous ere their chilly doom. 

Bright are violets and pansies. 

Of cerulean-crimson hues ; 
Luring fond and tender fancies, 

As ascending perfume woos ! 
Clustered as the dawn advances, 

Gleaming in the crystal dews. 

Beautiful, yet modest-seeming. 

Beam they 'mong their sister flowers, 

While the lake anear is gleaming. 
Mirroring its banks and bowers, 

And the morning light is streaming 
Down upon the lawns and towers. 

Plucked by hands unseared by toiling, 

Sunny tresses they adorn ; 
And on breasts of Love, love-foiling. 

Lie they, from Earth's bosom torn ; 
Fading, dying, crisping, spoiling, ^ 

Cast away to death forlorn ! 



WINTER VERSES. I23 

Violets and pansies ever, 

Drinking deep of Phoebus grand, 

Swell the sweetness of the river. 
And its bloom-enveloped strand — 

Smiling upward to the Giver, 
Nurtured by his heavenly hand ! 



WINTER VERSES. 

Gaunt Winter bites throughout the morning air. 

His anger's froth is visible in frost ; 
The pale-bright skies a modesty declare, 

The scythe and rake within the barn are crossed. 
Sweet quiet, as an almond kernel full, 

Dwells in the home-enclosing cold. 
And drifted snows, like fragmentary wool, 

In corners cast, icily old 

Become, ere vanishing through sunlight, 
manifold. 

Beyond the grove of naked chestnut trees 

Blithe skaters meet, when fails the ice-foe noon, 

Each ready swain, his maiden fair to please, 
Adventures her to swiftness, gently, soon. 



124 WINTERS VICTIM. 

There may be beauty manifest among 
The whirling coteries, and love, 

Yet surely both are germane to the young — 
Blessing the hearthstone, while the dove 
Of meek Religion sits the household throne 
above. 

The blast — a mouthless voice, shocking the night 
With din of rude, discordant sounds — calls out, 

And wraps in freezing, saturating blight 
Of clanging hail the roofs and fields about. 

But there 's a sanctum in a quaint old house — 
Two friends before the fire-glow dream ; 

Two dogs beside them crouch and slowly drowse ; 
O'er scattered books, that wearied seem, 
Wreathed evergreens partake of shade and 
gleam. 



WINTER'S VICTIM. 

Ah, crony mine, alone we sit. 

While round us howls the Winter, 

And thoughts of Beauty dying flit, 
As sparks from yonder splinter. 

Earth, air and sky are bleak and chill- 
Blest Virgin guide the comer 

Who ventures o'er this Highland hill — 
The monument of Summer. 



WINTERS VICTIM. I25 

Relight your meerschaum, crony mine, 

Let's dream in clouds together ; 
Refill your glass with friendly wine, 

We'll toast the Summer-weather. 
For oh, wild frosts shall ne'er congeal, 

Nor make our hearts the glummer, 
Nor blight the kindness that we feel 

For earth-delighting Summer. 

Hark ! heard you not a cry full faint. 

Yet loud to ears of pity? 
Ope, ope the door ; no human plaint 

Shall pass us to the city. 
What 's here ? a girl and aged man — 

He guards but to benumb her — 
*Tis Winter, shivering and wan, 

And 'neath his robes the Summer. 

Come in, come in, thou hoary form ! 

Come in, thou frozen beauty ! 
Here glows the firelight glad and warm, 

With hearts of tender duty. 
Take thou the farthest ingle-rest. 

Weird sage, where thou may'st slumber ; 
The maiden is the more distrest — 

Ah ! saddened is the Summer. 



126 winter's victim. 

And crony mine — the embers fade, 

A frost is in her bosom — 
Alas ! she 's dead, the lovely maid — 

White-haired ! but why accuse him ? 
He sleeps as with a soul of grace. 

With mien than erst not grummer — 
Haste, haste thee, comrade, seek a place, 

Where we may bury Summer ! 

Lost Bloom ! the North-wind moans her dirge, 

Be ours to aye commend her ; 
But grieve not, comrade ; she '11 emerge 

From out the grave with splendor. 
She '11 rise again, and charm the world ; 

Then, wand'ring never from her. 
We '11 laugh to see old Winter hurled 

From all the paths of Summer .' 



XL 



AMBITION. 

Ambition woke, and o'er his head 
There glittered high a star ; 
"I'll to yon light," Ambition said, 
"Though blood and deluge bar ! " 
He flew to gain the dazzling world 

That shone in air afar ; 
But fitful winds him backward hurled, 

And fought with force of war. 
He rose, all dangers downward trod. 

And boldly reached the star ; 
But, ah ! it seemed a diresome clod, 

As earth's attainments are ! 
A brighter orb its glory shed, 
" I'll to it fly ! " Ambition said. 



AMERICA TO IRELAND: GREETING. 

Thy children are my civic strength, 

My foremost aid in war; 
Upon my bosom rest their homes 

From coast to inland-core. 
They wield with sympathetic force 

The mattock or the pen ; 
And changeless faith in God upholds 

The hearts of Irishmen. 

They at thy birth gave ready care, 

Spoke words, wrought deeds of fame ; 
Nor shall the list be blurred that shows 

Carroll's and Barry's name. 
The warm blood wrestles with the cold — 

Behold, who 's worsted then ? 
The Puritan's vitality 

Flows not in Irishmen ! 

mournful sister of the sea, 
I love my foreign charge ; 

1 prize the German peace and thrift 

That make each village large. 
But, over all, the Celtic mind 

Is, aye, my brightest ken — - 
Flashed through the generation's lives 

From by-gone Irishmen ! 



A SONG OF SYMPATHY. 

The human heart, as an untuned lute, 
Of harmony's void — better 'twere mute — 

Without the touch of sympathy, 
And the o'ermastering grasp of love. 
Such thoughts one day did a singer move. 
Musing o'er what a voice had said — 
"Man's suffering will crimp at thee;" 

Yet, by the trustful answer led — 
" 'Twill urge a noble sympathy — " 
His mind awoke to numbers' throng. 
And he sang of that dear theme this song : 

A mild, kind spirit conquers all 

That soften to its bidding. 
To sweetness changing ev'ry gall — 

The soul of tumult ridding. 
Its influence is wide and near, 

As is our nature human ; 
Its presence is a holy cheer 

To child and man and woman. 

That mild, kind spirit ! lift the vail 
Of daily-wrought proceeding ; 

And watch what cheeks grow red and pale, 
Quick feeling telling, pleading. 



130 A SONG OF SYMPATHY. 

Here and there are the glad and sad, 
The lowly and the stately ; 

But poor and great, the sad and glad, 
Wish sympathy innately. 

The babe hath happiness and woe, 

And giveth woe and pleasure ; 
In helplessness its cry and crow 

Keep full the kindly measure. 
The mother's love is deepest for 

The child that lacks the talent ; 
The want that multitudes deplore 

Makes sympathy more gallant. 

Men guide machines and ply the sword, 

They steer and plow steadfaster — 
They persevere in true accord — 

Fix triumph o'er disaster. 
As sympathy in war and peace 

Makes heart and arm the stronger ; 
Oh, when its promptings fail and cease 

There 's victory no longer ! 

As friend and friend are faithful found, 
And stranger fosters stranger, 

On sympathy's own spirit-ground, 
There 's less of doubt and danger. 



CHANGES. 13- 

Ah ! where Religion lights the way 

Of mortal helping mortal, 
There comes o'er all the broadened ray 

From Heaven's golden portal. 

Of suffering be not fearful, heart. 

By sympathy excited, 
The ills of human nature start 

A prayer that they be righted. 
Sympathy and suffering claim 

A manly resolution : 
Firm be the will and blest the aim, 

And brave the execution ! 



CHANGES. 

How meek the soul becomes. 

When chill misfortune sears : 
Devouring e'en the crumbs 

It loathed in former years. 
How suppliant it seems, 

So haughty in the past ! 
Are Wealth and Glory dreams. 

That they so briefly last? 



132 COUNSEL. 

The beggar doffs his hood 

To men of nobler mien, 
Though purer be his blood 

Than flows through king or queen. 
The monarch forfeits rule, 

And, high in sovereign-place, 
Above a crimson pool. 

The beggar sways his race ! 

Then who will dare be proud — 

For what is mortal pride ? 
At noon, a silken shroud, 

At eve, a garb decried ! 
The glee of summer-hours 

Precedes a winter-grief ; 
And where bloomed freshest flowers 

Appears a shrivel'd leaf ! 



COUNSEL. 

My country is not pa?'t, but all 

Of its extent from sea to sea ; 
I will not, and I cannot call 

The North alone beloved by me. 
I love the South, the East, the West, 

For they're my native land as well I 
Each part full equal to the rest, 

And all as one in Freedom's swell. 



EXULTATION. 133 

Is he a friend of humankind, 

Who agitates intestine feud? 
Believe it not : the evil mind 

Is ever restless, not the good. 
And countrymen, by war we've won 

The title to a common land ; 
Then who will dare take down the gun. 

And flame again Rebellion's brand ? 

Recrimination curses yields, 

And 'tis a noble nation's pride 
To build the cities, smooth the fields, 

That devastation wasted wide. 
And hide the deep and bloody trace 

Of strife, with smiling homes and bowers ; 
In war we were a warrior-race. 

In peace be Love and Kindness ours ! 



EXULTATION. 

July 4, 1S65. 

Lift high our flag, by blood redeemed, 

With jubilant acclaim ; 
No grander epoch ever beamed 

Than this for Glory's name. 
No brighter hour for Liberty 

Glowed since the world began — 
For millions saved from anarchy 

Exalt the cause of Man ! 



134 EXULTATION. 

Let choruses from children rise, 

Responsive to the song 
That angels chant, when destinies 

The joys of men prolong. 
Let horrors blacken but the Past, 

The Present is of cheer ; 
Sweet Amity is ours — at last 

The smile supplants the tear. 

The world is glad, the realms serene 

Embody Nature's glee ; 
Our country's triumph pleases e'en 

The tyrants o'er the sea ! 
Green Erin lifts her fettered form. 

And Poland breathes a sigh 
For Liberty, though battle's storm 

Has swept her plains and sky. 

Lift high our flag, by blood redeemed. 

Dear countrymen and brave ; 
Full eighty years its folds have streamed, 

Ten thousand may they wave ! 
And fairest hands will fashion flowers 

In garlands, sweet and gay, 
To beautify this flag of ours. 

So glorious to-day ! 



FRIENDSHIP. 

When Friendship glitters in each eye, 

And warms the pressure of each hand, 
Misfortune's weights more lightly lie. 

And crumbling, yield like desert sand. 
They fall from off the tortured heart — 

Ill-judged, despised, condemned o'ermuch- 
And, as dark memories, depart 

At Friendship's true and gen'rous touch. 

Oh, 'tis an hour of misery — 

Yet many souls that hour withstand — 
When Friendship's gleam grows shadowy, 

And dead its pulse in ev'ry hand. 
At such a time, be calm, sad heart ! 

Be prayerful, be very meek ; 
Thy faith will shield from mortal dart. 

And glad the soul, and flush the cheek ! 



GLIMPSES. 

The night was shadowing meadow and cottage, 
And homeward sauntered the herds, 

As a child stood by a man in his dotage — 
Listening to his words. 

'The dayHght's gone," quoth the withering 
mortal ; 

'"Twill come again," said the child ; 
And soft and dreamily over the portal 

Fell moonbeams pure and mild. 



Afar in the west loud storm-notes were rumbling, 
Clouds gathered ' twixt earth and sky ; 

The firmament — oh ! 'twas awing, 'twas humbling 
To heart, and brain, and eye ! 

The bivouac-fagots were crackling to ashes — 

Eve was a truce to the foes ; 
'Thwart Heaven's dark arch flew the lightning's 
keen flashes. 

Burning the venoms that rose. 

Morn beamed ; but alas ! what murderous ruin! — 
Blood imbrued, humankind reeled ; 

Lost was the hour to rejoice, love or woo in — 
Torn was Amity s shield ! 



GLIMPSES. 137 

O'er bone-strewn paths, where miscreant earthly- 
glory 

Plucked vantage, from pale, slaughtered men, 
Six horsemen hastened, in each breast a story — 

Dreadful to tell again. 

Why rode they thus so mournful and so lonely, 

A weary, wan, and wasted band ? 
Two hundred souls they numbered erst, but only 

Six lived to tread the land ! 

What sought they 'mong the butchered heaps and 
bloody — 

Blackening as the Past grew large ? 
Their chief — ay, he of hero-form and ruddy, 

Who led the daybreak charge. 

They found him where the peril was the thickest, 
Where Carnage piled its highest mound ; 

Down sprang they quick, and those that were the 
quickest 
Bore him to safer ground. 

"My comrades," gasped he, "I am bleeding, 
dying— 

The east is as a rosy bride, 
Yet smiles on horrors — see ! the foe is flying — 

I '11 to my sires," and died. 



HONOR. 

Loftily Knight Honor reared, 

In spotless robes arrayed ; 
Vice, a coward thing, appeared 

In ignominy flayed. 
Passion spread its horrors round, 

To darken and degrade ; 
Yet firmly .fixed on righteous ground, 

Knight H^onor, undismayed. 
Still purer shone, in brave repose. 

Unsullied, undecayed. 
Of noble mien, his presence glows, 

Nor casts one gloomy shade. 
Let all the robes of Honor wear, 
For Honor's garb is ever fair. 



LAND. 

A righteous love is the love of land. 
Its service builds the love of God ; 

E'en as the movements of brain and hand. 
Soul-obedient, striving, plod 
In ways material to the end 



LAND. 139 

Of the life of man— thus the love 

Of the patriot, burning below, 
Flames to the higher one above. 

With its essence and its warmth and glow — 
Wrong to destroy and right to defend. 

Nature is gloried by saving grace, 

'Neath Heaven in humbleness it spreads ; 
Of itself, though dear, an earthly place 

Is dearer through the love that weds 

All Christian souls, that know how to bend, 

Making world-scenes akin to those 
In Hope's hereafter— Beautiful land !— 

Where bliss is taintless and repose — 
Where the true forever shining stand, 

Wrong to destroy and right to defend. 

The land is holy with holy men, 

The land is fruitful in the hand 
Of the wise and working citizen. 

Free from the spoiler's yoke and brand — 

Free by the labors that home befriend — 
Free from the pampered absentee — 
Free from the older blundering forms — 

Full of the life of liberty- 
Ready, however murmur the storms, 

Wrong to destroy and right to defend ! 



140 LINES TO A BRILLIANT STAR. 

To love the land and have it not 

Is mockery of the aim of love — 
Possession ; though 't be a little spot, 

'Tis cherished as a fav'rite dove, 

Which an enemy would poach and rend. 

What hatreds in the heart arise, • 
When love is cozened of its beloved ! 

Then blackness fills once sunniest skies — 
Humanity is to vengeance moved — 

Wrong to destroy and right to defend ! 



LINES TO A BRILLIANT STAR. 

Shine on, shine on, O Star, 
High in the crown of Night ; 

May naught thy glory mar. 

Though hidden oft from sight. 

Thou glitt'rest for mortals 
In this their home below — 

Brightening Heaven's portals. 
So constant to bestow. 

Clouds many times o'ercast 
Thy cheerful, sparkling face ; 

But when anon they've passed. 
Thou beam'st in all thy grace. 



moore's centenary. 14] 

Shine on, shine on, O Star, 

With others of thy kind ; 
And from Night's crown afar, 

Flash pleasures to the mind. 



MOORE'S centenary; 

May 28th, 1879. 

A hundred years ago a bard was born on Irish 

ground, 
A hundred years have passed, and as a bard he is 

renowned; 
His birth is marked in history, his fame in verse 

and prose. 
By countrymen, by foreign pen, the world his 

title knows. 

With wreath of poesy is crowned that singer of 

true song. 
That lovers of sweet melody hath moved to 

pleasure long, 
And Thomas Moore is full secure in memory 

stretching' far. 
Whereto the future promises no black oblivion's 

bar. 



142 moore's centenary. 

No songster else more varied or more tuneful 

was than Moore : 
Burns' tenderness, Heine's beauty and Beranger's 

fire allure, 
Yet other lands of South or North — the farthest 

and the near — 
In brimming minstrelsy, they Ve not the Irish 

singer's peer. 

The moods of joy and grief and love, of battle 

and of peace, 
He sang in strains that have not ceased, nor will, 

till chaos, cease ; 
For they 're taken up from heart to heart — from 

lip to lip their tone 
Is sounded, till the stranger feels the charm as 

'twere his own ! 

A loving touch was Thomas Moore's, that the 

harp of Erin thrilled ; 
With the presence of his music the Irish breast 

is filled ; 
'Twas caught from ancient ballad-tunes, 'twas 

gathered as fine gold 
From the deep enriching mine of song — from 

Erin's heart of old. 



PRAISE. 143 

Thus, while we wander back in thought through- 
out a hundred years, 

We mark the great and master-bard, e'en through 
his country's tears. 

And raise the voice of praise, and pray that ever 
may endure 

The memory of the Irishman and poet — Thomas 
Moore ! 



PRAISE. 

Mine is a broad and bounteous land, 

Untrod by courtiers, kings, or slaves ; 
A freeman on its soil I stand, 

And oceans round it toss their wav€S 
In mystery. 
In majesty. 
And chant within resounding caves 

The grandest tones of Freedom's song. 
Its treasures are its heroes' graves. 

Its glory is its living throng; 
Its flag — how loftily it braves 

The tyrants as it streams along ' 



144 SMITH S BRIGADE. 

Mine is a green and varied land, 

Whose mountains, valleys, hills and plains 
In peopled unity expand ; 

Whose rivers course like mighty veins. 
Full rapidly, 
Full lucidly, 
The offsprings of unnumbered rains, 

The inner paths of Power's career. 
'Midst all, with all, no chilling chains 

Bid Liberty to droop and fear ; 
Grim Monarchy such toys retains — 

They are not here — they are not here ! 



SMITH'S BRIGADE. 

(Commanded by Col. Orlan Smith, of the 73d Ohio Volunteers,) 



BATTLE OF LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 
October 28, 1863. 

Defiantly on Lookout Mount Confed'rate soldiers 

spread. 
And in the valley confident Federal legions tread; 
Brave Hooker guides their fearless march, true 

Howard 's in the van. 
And Geary guards the valley-road, as only hero 

can. 



SMITH S BRIGADE. 



145 



As steadfast as the ocean-rock that curbs the 

tempest-sea, 
His troops resist the battle-wave, and keep the 

mastery. 
In giant grandeur stand the heights from which 

rebuffs are hurled. 
And Longstreet flies a battle-flag that newly 

greets the world. 
The morning beam is tinging faint the merry 

mountain rills. 
Resounding volleys crash aloft, and echo 'mong 

the hills ; 
Proud Lookout looms discordant, dim — a flam- 
ing pile of war. 
Its woods the hideous haunts of Death, its sod a 

couch of gore. 

From glen and cliff and shelt'ry trench the hostile 

thunders peal ; 
They rouse the heart, they mad the brain to 

potency of zeal ; 
They quicken ev'ry sense of rage that slumbers 

in the soul, 
As Carnage flames its ghastly torch, and lurid 

flames uproll ! 
How fiercely meet those kindred forms, how 

dreadful, yet sublime 



146 smith's brigade. 

The scene whereon red Slaughter stalks to purify 

the time ! 
Ah ! thus it is, man bleeds to purge the follies of 

his kind, 
And, writhing, dies in butchered plight, his groan 

upon the wind. 
Hark ! from the Mountain's crimsoned side 

reverberates the strife. 
And Smith's Brigade ascends the steep to offer 

life for life. 
They bear the Union's banner high — it glitters as 

a charm — 
There's patriotism in each heart, and valor in 

each arm. 

Quick gushes from the summit dark the flash of 

fatal fires. 
Yet upward charge those gallant men, whom 

Liberty inspires ! 
Like angered fiends they rush, they fight, they 

rally, and they die — 
The nightly mist has risen soft, the sunlight's in 

the sky : 
The sunlight gilds the shadowed Mount, and 

shows the warry gleam 
Of bayonets all deadly set, as in some horrid 

dream. 



SMITH S BRIGADE. I47 

On, on they dash to where the foe, intrenched and 

daring, waits — 
The very air is maddened now, and fraught with 

winging hates ; 
A struggle of contesting might is clashing in the 

clouds, 
And Havoc grants its guerdon grim, but to the 

dead no shrouds. 
See ! some assault, and some pursue, and some 

retire dismayed : 
It is the Southern band that flies ; the victors — 

Smith's Brigade. 

Oh ! mighty spasm of human hearts ; oh ! wreck 

of frenzied power ; 
The world is told through Glory's trump to mark 

the deed and hour ; 
To cherish and exalt the brave, whose heroism 

outshines 
In grand enduring memories, and unerasive lines! 
Columbia's life is stronger grown : her chastened 

sons recoil ; 
Their blood bedews the valley-heath, and clots 

the mountain-soil ; 
A lengthy quiet walks the wild, and noises deep 

and dread 
Are hushed as are the lips that close the voices 

of the dead. 



148 society's sea. 

No smokes arise to upper air, to lave anon in tears 

The grassy tufts, the glowing shades, that beau- 
tify the years ; 

No more the blaze of war revives, no more the 
deep'ning groans 

Of warrior-souls are murmuring above uncoffined 
bones. 



SOCIETY'S SEA. 

There arose on the moody breeze of Night 

A voice from Society's Sea ; 
And I reviewed anon a luring light, 
That lit up a wave of blemishless white, 

But I said, " It is not for me." 

"It is not for me," I said, as I gazed 

Wide over the varying flood ; 
" For my brain's ablaze, and my heart's amazed, 
To behold sweet Virtue buffeted, dazed, 

And Evil thus conquering Good." 

A maidenly form on the stainless wave 

Beamed o'er it in Purity's sheen ; 
'Twas mystic, divine, 'twas sight for the brave, 
And she seemed to surmount Sin and the grave. 

Like Mary, the Cherubim -Queen. 



SOCIETY S SEA. 149 

She saw the ripples of Folly afar, 

Beyond them a deepening waste, 
Unlit by a ray, ungemmed by a star, 
And — dupes that children of Innocence are — 

Sought in her soul some germ disgraced. 

Then a smiling fiend at her side thus spoke. 

Persuasive as a foe of Heaven — 
" What fear'st thou, angel ? yon gloom is the cloak 
That vails a beautiful realm, where the yoke 

Of exquisite passion is riven !" 

An ebony wave upheaved at their feet — 

She stept from the pure to the vile : 
Oh ! swift are the lurements of glozing Deceit, 
And my heart grew sad that a soul so sweet 
Society thus should defile. 

Not lost ! not lost ! for a youth o'er the wave, 

As Virtue's knight-errant, pursued — 
Pursued to the bounds of Chastity's grave, 
And the demon's front full merciless clave, 
With the sword defensive of Good ! 

And a halo from the morning of grace 

Shone round the saviour and the saved ; 
And the shadows died from her form and face, 
For she stood again in her virginal place, 
'Mong the Beautiful, undepraved ! 



STANZAS. 

Enshrined in Fancy's bowers, 
Bloom bright and tender flowers, 
O'er which the sky oft lowers, 

And falls the chilly rain ; 
Of beauty, thought-designed, 
Of perfume, soul-refined. 
Smile lilies of the mind, 

Blush roses of the brain. 



Ah ! Melancholy, thou 
Com'st o'er my musings now. 
And specters 'thwart the brow 

Of Fancy throng amain ; 
And dimming with the light 
That dazzled Reason's sight, 
Expire in mental night 

The bright bloom of the brain. 



SZEGEDIN. 

A city of Hungary, destroyed by flood, March, 1879. 

The menacing flood sought Szegedin ; 

The pititless flood swept Szegedin ; 

For the o'ergorged Theiss broke its bonds, 

When mountain snows, in torrents and ponds, 

Destruction spread to the Magyar plain. 

The prudent work of man was in vain ; 

Vain was the raising of wall or dyke, 

For the watery fiend was strong to strike. 

And the Theiss bore unfriendly force, 

To Szegedin homes in its pampered course. 

Woe is the people of Szegedin ! 

Have mercy, O Lord, on Szegedin ! 

The tempest moves from the bleak northeast, 

The dangers unite, the flood 's increased. 

The Magyar city is in the maw 

Of the monster working Nature's law ! 

Brief space, and many thousand lives, 

Of youth and age, of men and of wives. 

Are snatched by the waters pitiless — 

God be their help in bare distress. 



152 TIMOTHY O BRIEN. 

Oh, the stricken people of Szegedin ! 

Oh, the homeless people of Szegedin ! 

They hold out hands to the pitying world, 

From the pitiless waters that have hurled 

Their household treasures and comforts and kin 

To the fate that overcame Szegedin. 

The menacing flood sought Szegedin, 

The storm and waters swept Szegedin, 

And the misery of the Magyar land 

Was postulant for the Helping Hand. 



TIMOTHY O'BRIEN, 



HERO OF THE "METROPOLIS WRECK. 

" By his own unaided exertions he rescued from the breakers and 
surf nearly fifty persons." — Herald report, Feb. 3, 1878. 



The soul of a man is such as is proven, 

The hero is such by trial ; 
When dangers and tempests are thicklv woven. 

Like the sunshine on a dial, 
The soul impels a man to the mark ; 

The time of action is known by the shade 
Of helpless forms in the surges dark. 

And the hero sees and springs to their aid. 



TIMOTHY O BRIEN. 153 

Oh, wild was the scene of wreck and of ocean ! 

The ship to her spars was sinking, 
And Death was lifting to many its potion, 

And many of it were drinking ; 
But there was a strong one at the shrouds : 

He watched the peril and terror below, 
Then plunged adown o'er the drowning crowds, 

And pushed ashore through the billowy flow. 

Did he rest in the gift of a self-life sadly. 

Heedless of those in the waters ? 
No, no ; he battled with the breakers gladly 

To lessen old Neptune's slaughters ; 
And more than two-score of human lives 

Were saved from the angry, threatening sea ; 
For he tore them from its foamy gyves. 

And placed them again on the landside free. 

This is the song that I sing of the hero 

Who has braved the ocean-lion. 
In the name of hearts of blood above zero 

I here thank thee, Tim O'Brien. 
'Tis by such spirits as thine the world 

Is worthier of God's protecting hand ; 
Yet, howe'er by earthly passion hurled. 

May ail, at last, come safe to Happy-Land ! 



TOLERATION. 

Shall toleration yet survive, 

Or bigotry instead ? 
The first kept liberty alive — 

The last would leave it dead. 
The Native, Teuton, Celt and Gaul, 

Upheld the state — uphold it still: — 
It must not, shall not shake and fall 

Through hate of race or creed-bred ill. 

The native-born who 'd interdict 
The foreigner, and plot 

To persecute him — take his right- 
Is not a patriot. 

The foreigner who 'd violate 

The nation's principles and laws 

Is not its friend in any strait — 
Is aye the foeman of its cause. 

Together strive, commingled men, 

To build our great broad land ; 
The lab'rers of the plow and pen. 

Or by the brain and hand, 
Should not demolish that or this 

For poor opinion's sake : 
Our happiness no whirlpool is, 

But likelier a useful lake. * 



TO THE ANGEL, PEACE. 

1865. 

Bright angel, Peace ! sublimely thou may'st soar 
Through summer-airs, that erst the fiend of War 
Shook with hideous sounds that grieve no more. 
Thy white wings beam in happy purity — 
They ope — beneath them spreads security, 
Confirmed amid the beauties of mountain-land 
and shore. 

Bright angel, Peace ! thy smiles fell Discord's 

shades 
Dispel, throughout my country's towns and 

glades : 
Brave kinsmen sheathe antagonistic blades. 
As none thy true clemency accuses, 
'Tis but the obdurate heart refuses 
A fallen brother's friendship, and deems that it 
degrades. 

Bright angel, Peace ! flee not away ; thy feet 
In glory walk, thy hands in mercy meet. 
To comfort all, and bless the rip'ning wheat. 
Oh ! ne'er let gentle, holy Charity 
With Freedom's sons be as a rarity — 
Shine o'er us, and we '11 love thee with love entranc- 
ing sweet. 



THE FALL OF THE LEAVES. 

How mournful and meek is the fall of the leaves, 

As prayerful Autumn with fortitude grieves 

For Summer, her sister, immured in the grave : 

The winds shriek over her, 

The dun leaves cover her, 

And bleak is the landscape, and dark is the wave. 

There's a monody in the fall of the leaves, 
As downward they flit to their cousins, the 
sheaves. 
Broadcast and withering on hill-side and plain : 
As heaped in the valley, 
Whose trees creak dismally, 
Bereft of their beauty, lamenting disdain. 



No harmonies joy o'er the fall of the leaves. 
And the sorry-eyed sprite of the woodland 
weaves 
A chaplet of decay for the Autumn-king, 
'Tis Love now gladdens all. 
For Nature saddens all. 
And I turn from the scene to dream of the Spring. 
I 



THE IRISH WAY. 

1888. 

Each manageth what is his own — 

His house, his servants — merchandise ; 
For rulers are the power and throne, 

For peoples, rights and enterprise. 
Rulers are for peoples given, 

As the sun is for the day, 
And never is their compact riven 

When righteous is the ruler's sway. 

Each nation, be it weak or strong, 

Hath aspirations of its own ; 
Its yearnings, many ages long. 

By sacrificial deeds are shown. 
When Justice lifts her shining sword. 

Old Tyranny to fright or slay. 
Then rise the nations at her word 

From out their sorrow and decay. 

The Irish nation rises now, 

With helm of Justice firmly on ; 
The glow of hope 's on Erin's brow. 

The night of servitude is gone ! 
She knows the English task that schooled 

Her, helpless, to perforce obey ; 
But now her claim is to be ruled 

In nothing but the Irish way. 



158 THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE. 

May Englishmen their island love, 

Its manners, customs, laws respect ; 
They fail all other men above 

The Irish to their ways subject. 
Peace, harmony, good-will and trust 

Will join on Ireland's freedom-day 
But Ireland's claim is that she must 

Be ruled in just the Irish way. 



THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE. 

The Genius of each age records 

Heroic, bright and noble deeds, 
'Midst clash of musketry and swords, 

'Midst tramp of foemen and of steeds. 
O'er Battle's horrid scene of woes, 

Where flashes high the crimsoned glaive, 
The heart a coronal bestows 

To the memory of the Brave. 

Thermopylae and Marathon 

Shine grand as sunlight on the seas ; 
And vivify those heroes gone — 

Leonidas, Miltiades. 
The glories of the Grecian State — 

Rome's prowess on the land and wave- 
Awake the chords of praise elate 

To the Memory of the Brave, 



THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE. I59 

Europa's heather-vales attest 

The valor of Caucasian blood : 
Unawed by tyrant-power unblest, 

The Knights of Freedom stoutly stood. 
Ay, many fought in fierce crusade, 

And many piled the hallowed grave — 
Let not polluted tongues upbraid 

The darling Mem'ry of the Brave. 

Upon the blooming Western Land 

The flash of warry lightnings came ; 
Victory smiled on Freedom's band, 

And Tyranny crouched low in shame. 
Where rest the valiant — spirit-free — 

Oblivion's tide shall never lave ; 
For heart-enshrined will ever be 

The Mem'ry of the faithful Brave. 

Let nations honor, long and well. 

The noble hearts that pine and bleed 
On battle-ground, in martyr-cell, 

And plant 'midst horrors Freedom's seed. 
Oh, green in Recollection's maze 

Be ev'ry patriot hero's grave : 
Posterity its voice will raise 

And bless the Mem'ry of the Brave ! 



THE OUTCAST'S GRAVE. 

Apart from the rest, in the dark clod alone, 
With noxious weeds and rank herbage o'ergrown, 

Is seen the outcast's grave. 
There's not e'en a slab or purchaseless stone, 
Save the pebbly ones, o'er the dust unknown, 

That human tears ne'er lave. 



Oh, why reposes this remnant of dust 
Companionless, far from the lauded just, 

In such a dreary grave ? 
"She Virtue scorned," say those mortals whose 

trust 
Seems holy, "her life was darkened with lust, 

And sank where demons rave I " 



Charity ! how true is the baleful tale 

Of this worthless earth in its darksome jail, 

That Pity's tear would crave ? 
It erst had a spirit, like those who rail. 
And heart of love, and cheeks of bloom, now 
pale — 

Dead in the outcast's grave ! 



THE RIGHTS OF MAN. l6l 

Why place it lonely here, why is 't not found 
Among the rest, with white mausoleums crowned. 

Within a cherished grave ? 
Though Sin, forsooth, has piled the outcast's 

mound, 
Can native earth pollute its native ground, 

Has Sin no other slave ? 

There 's interest here : a vision gaunt appears, 
As meditation drifts adown the years, 

On Time's uncertain wave. 
Humanity! she shrinks not at your jeers, 
She's dead — the clouds but mourn, and drop 
their tears 

Upon the outcast's grave ! 



THE RIGHTS OF MAN. 

When Misrule's night 
Wrapt lord and slave^ 

And gloomed the light 
That Glory gave, 

Above the West 

Burst forth a sign — 



l62 THE RIGHTS OF MAN. 

To lords unblest, 
To slaves divine — 
And thus the glorious symbol ran : 

"To ALL BELONG THE RiGHTS OF MaN !" 

The tyrant frowned, 

The courtier threw 
His gauntlet, bound 

With favors new ; 
And as it fell, 

Thus challenged he 
The world, whose spell 

Was Liberty: 
''The power of kings shall crush and ban 
Who dare uphold the Rights of Man !" 

Ten thousand swords. 

In patriot hands, 
Gleamed round the words 

That woke all lands 
With fervent hope, . 

And brave desire, 
Misrule to cope 
With, and acquire 
In halls of State, and Battle's van. 
The vindicated Rights of Man. 



THE SHAMROCK AND LAUREL. 163 

And since that hour, 

When Tyranny 
Reeled 'neath the power 

Of Liberty, 
The exiled found 

A refuge bright — 
A vantage-ground 
To Wrong requite, 
And come to triumph as they can. 
By Power of God and Rights of Man. 



THE SHAMROCK AND LAUREL. 

There 's a lofty love abounding 

In the emblem of a land ; 
There's a fellowship, confounding 

The evil mind and hand, 
In the token of a nation. 

In the flow'ret of a race ; 
And a multiform oblation 

Is lifted by the grace 

And patriotism of millions — 



l64 THE SHAMROCK AND LAUREL. 

To the hearthstones, homes and hamlets, 
Where gush the native fountains ; 

To the valleys, groves and streamlets, 
The cities and the mountains — 
With a pride as high as Ilion's 1 

As the Lily was the glory 
Of the olden flag of France, 

As the Rose illumes the story 
Of Albion's advance — 

In the Shamrock is communion 
Of all Irish faith and love. 

And the Laurel crowns the union 
Of grandeurs interwove 
Round the temple of the Chainless. 

To the Laurel fill libations, 

The cup with Shamrocks wreathing; 

And before the monarch-nations 
Raise the symbol — breathing 
Equal Rights — to lordlings gainless ! 

Interweave the lowly Shamrock, 
Freedom's Laurel to endow ; 

Ay, unite with Ireland's Shamrock 
Columbia's Laurel-bough — 

For there 's hope and help unchary 
Columbia's skies beneath, 



THE STRUGGLE AND TRIUMPH. l6 = 

And from ev'ry cliff and prairie 

To Erin's hills of heath, 

Salutations clear and cheerful 
Resound across the ocean, 

And Celts, in might increasing, 
With patriot emotion, 

Vow in their souls unceasing : 
"We will aid thee. Mother tearful !' 



THE STRUGGLE AND TRIUMPH. 

Rise ! brother-bard, rehearse with me 
The past, that was futurity, 
And up the shining hills of thought 
Muse o'er the deeds that men have wrought, 
And on the bright Parnassian peak 
These words of meditation speak : 
In the struggle is the triumph. 

Hail ! gracious youth, thou too may'st come ; 
Leave passion's revel, pleasure's hum, 
The strife, the jealousy, the guilt, 
The recklessness of error's tilt. 
Thy soul, confirmed in noblest light. 
Will 'vow at last — "for truth and right 
In the struggle is the triumph." 



l66 TO TRAGEDY. 

O sage — mosi rev'rend are thy years, 
Transfixing folly, less'ning tears — 
Come, thou shalt teach me many things 
Of earth, air, sea ; of paupers, kings ; 
Of angels bred in poverty. 
Of demons reared in luxury, 

Of the struggle and the triumph. 

Youth linked to age, and bard to bard, 
Stand forth, united for reward ! 
And whether on the mount or plain. 
In town or forest, still retain 
The soul above the diadem, 
A.S champion of the apothegm. 

In the struggle is the triumph. 



TO TRAGEDY. 



A SONNET. 



Hail ! sublime offspring of the mimic Muse, 
As from her cloud-wrapt throne thy powers infuse 
Earth's Genius, with brain-ennobling fires ; 
Whereby depicted are men's passions, ires, 
And what their souls contain, that all may see 
Profound existence in epitome ! 



VALES AND MOUNTAINS. 167 

Thy sphere is where the dim and narrow stage 
Unfolds a massive world. Thy Love and Rage 
Are there revealed, as in Time's wider scene 
They burn, transpire ; racking the jeweled queen 
And her subject-slave with passionate power 
Alike, though placed distinct, as speeds the hour — 
The circumstantial hour of human life. 
In which, O Tragedy, Love rules with Rage and 
Strife ! 



VALES AND MOUNTAINS. 

There is a laughter and a grief 

In all the world of thought and act ; 
There is oppression and relief 

In fancy, as there is in fact. 
The new-born rise, the aged sink, 

The cradle and the hearse 
United hold, united link 

A blessing and a curse. 

Deep vales there are in every life, 

And mountains, where the soul may climb, 
And, utilizing peace and strife. 

Affirm its energies sublime. 



l68 VALES AND MOUNTAINS. 

As man and man, robust and weak, 

The toiler and the lord, 
The same air breathe, the same tongue speak, 

But walk not in accord. 



Grand nations groan within the vales. 

And each one wears a thorny crown ; 
While on the mountains wind the trails 

Of empires, struggling up and down. 
The spirit-flames of Freedom burn — 

Loud Revolutions roar — 
The monarchs shrink, the peoples yearn, 

And strike from shore to shore. 



As go the years, ill-fated lands 

Fall to the vales, bereft of power ; 
Exalted lurk tyrannic bands, 

To warn and ward the vengeful hour- 
The hour when from the vales arise 

The erst-bound, strong and free, 
To hurl them from the peaks and skies 

Designed for Liberty ! 



VERSES ABOUT A BLACKTHORN. 

" It came from the heart of Ireland, 
Not far from old Athlone"; 
Thus spake an Irishman to me 
As night was midway grown, 
'Twas in a mighty city, 
Abode of wrong and pity. 

"At the house I have another; 
Welcome you are to this": 
He held up a trusty Blackthorn 
To meet the moonlight's kiss. 
" In places of the stranger, 
Defense 'twill be from danger." 



I took in my hand the Blackthorn- 
Accepted it, in fact — 

Fully grateful to the giver 
For his spontaneous act. 

The Blackthorn was a good one, 

A true one, though a rude one. 



170 VICTORY AND GLORY. 

Hence I placed it with a maker, 

To fit it to my length, 
And the cane came from his workshop 

In beauty as in strength ; 
Of buffalo horn the handle, 
Wherewith its staff to dandle. 



It is oft my one companion, 
All hours upon my walks ; 

And no Irishman that sees it 
But stops and of it talks. 

Admired where'er I take it, 

I may not bend or break it. 



VICTORY AND GLORY. 

As the spirit o'er the body in excellence presides, 
And the health of river-waters is flushed by quick- 

'ning tides. 
The victory is excellent that heightens men in soul. 
And base the victpry that brings but sordid earth- 
control; 
And the glory of a nation is not in blood-bought 
lands. 



VICTORY AND GLORY. 171 

Whereon horrid-faced Oppression in fear and 
menace stands, 

But in goodness of its rulers, that rule by Chris- 
tian laws — 

Strong, lion-like, yet dove-like, mild — of happiness 
the cause. 

Oh, the thought of life is constant, rallying to the 

mind 
A sorrowing long procession of vanquished 

human kind. 
The conqueror is worldliness, whose wisdom 

marks the ban — 
Ambition is the spirit-chief and Folly's in the van! 
It is a specious victory, that of the worldly strong. 
No victory for God or man 's the victory of wrong; 
True glory, shining as the sun above all conflicts 

clear, 
Is service of the Sovereign Lord, above all 

sovereigns here ! 

By the scorn of just Religion, by worship of the 

State, 
By straining, bursting of the bonds that bind a 

nation great. 
By lurements of licentiousness, that's tyranny 

disguised. 



172 WAR. 

Without the Truth eternal — immortal, though 

despised, 
What glory rises on the world, of everlasting 

gleam, 
To light the chiefs and peoples to where bliss is 

not a dream ? — 
What triumphs raise the human race, struggling 

from the fall ? — 
None, none; there's final overthrow — no victory 

at all ! 



WAR. 



Pulsing in violent, feverish throbs. 

Wildly, recklessly dashing, 
Life flows red, and its groans and its sobs 

Follow the saber's clashing. 
The tufts of the plain. 

The rocks of the height, 
Bear up the brave slain, 

As battle's fierce light 

'Midst pallid smoke is flashing. 

Horsemen and infantry rush to the shock, 

Storming, defending, flying, 
And shouts of "Victory" cruelly mock 

The pangs of soldiers dying. 



WEALTH NO MERIT. I73 

The thunders of strife, 

On morning's sweet breath, 
Now quicken warm Life, 

Now horrify Death, 

While hearts afar are sighing. 

As bivouac-fires, through lengthening years, 

Illume grand woodlands nightly, 
I pray that joy may follow the tears 

That trickle sad, yet brightly — 
That flowers may upbreathe 

O'er warrior-graves ; 
And war-ships, beneath 

Oceanic waves. 

Decay unseen, unsightly ! 



WEALTH NO MERIT. 

Though philosophers curb emotions. 

Divines anath'matize pride, 
Humanity still has its notions, 

As the sea its changing tide ; 
And the glitter of wealth lures about it 

The weakest, the fairest, ay, those 
Who 'd banish the cynic who 'd flout it, 

And scoff at its tinseled woes ! 



174 WEALTH NO MERIT. 

See the genius, with garments tattered, 

Grasping his manuscript-roll, 
In his nook, by the wild winds battered- 

Who comforts his mighty soul? 
Not the simpering levees that gather 

In false, luxurious ease ; 
Not the lovers of fashion — but rather 

The unrecognized of these ! 

Humanity ! rise, as you rally 

From Pride's insidious snares; 
Full worthy, as flowers of the valley 

That sweeten the mountain airs 1 
Let fools all follies inherit. 

And Intellect sovereign be ; 
Then none will be great without merit. 

Then Talent and Truth shall be free ! 



FROM ^'ZILLORA, A TALE. 

(Published in 1869.) 



CROWS CAW FROM PINE AND OAK. 

Crows caw from pine and oak, 
The oxen bear the yoke, 
Elysium is unfound 
Throughout terrestrial round ; 
But there is minted gold, 
Earth's pageants to emboss ; 
So yellow, false, and cold — 
Too oft the spirit's loss — 
It gleams all human ways across. 



176 FROM ''ZILLORA, A TALE." 



DEAR POWER OF LOVE. 

Dear Power of Love — that binds 
Hearts to hearts, minds to minds, 
In fond attachments all ; 
That cheers, though crimes appall — 
Though earthquakes shake the soil. 
And Mis'ry's wretches groan 
'Midst Luxury and Toil ; 
That builds its rosy throne 
On Nature's altitude alone ! 

Dear Power of Love ! to thee 
Succumbs Philosophy ; 
And men and angels are 
Thy lamps, as sun and star 
Are servant-orbs of God. 
Within thy happy sway, 
The presences that sod 
And flow'ring wild display 
Exalt the universal clay ! 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 177 



IN SEARCH OF TREASURE-TROVE. 

In search of treasure-trove, 

What perils, rudely wove. 

Beset the buccaneer. 

Warily doth he steer 

Tow'rd land : when out at sea. 

How boldly wings his ship, 

From hull to topmast free ! 

Ah ! outlaw, thou shalt sip 

Of av 'rice, though it burn thy lip ! 



Revert thee, mindful strain 
To noonday o'er old Spain ; 
To noonday 'mong the hills, 
Musical with the trills 
Of woodland choristry : 
Where, ancient as the Moors, 
An abbey, ruined, wry 
And moldering, allures 
Most picturesquely, and assures 



178 FROM ''ZILLORA, A TALE." 

The skeptic : As decay 

Blurs Nature's grandest day, 

So in the soul's full glow 

Live memories of woe, 

And shrinking dread of Death. 

Since all that's human errs, 

Preserving Virtue's breath, 

No miracle occurs 

When skeptics turn philosophers ! 



NIGHT. 

Awful Spirit of Night ! 

Thy lone and solemn flight 

Enforces deepest thought. 

And meditation fraught 

With fantasies and dreams. 

Thy wings the land and wave 

O'erspread, concealing beams — 

Save when, through Heaven's concave. 

The moon and stars thy shadows brave. 

The poet cons his verse, 

The worldling counts his purse ; 

The lover wildly vows 

His mistress to espouse ; 



FROM ''ZILLORA, A TALE." 179 

The outcast by-lanes roves, 

The debauchee insane 

Through Pleasure's orgies moves — 

A demon in his brain — 

While thou, O Night, o'er earth remain. 

To children's eyelids comes 

Soft sleep, pervading homes 

Of Poverty and Wealth. 

Lovingly, and by stealth, 

Each mother kisses each 

Young flower, then woos repose ; 

Ere which her prayers beseech 

God's sunshine on her rose. 

Whose bud new-opes, unwise of snows ! 



Oh, why should grief survive 
The Night, or if alive 
When Joy o'er Nature comes. 
Why lurks it in fair homes, 
A torment-shade? — till Life 
Implores in spirit-woe : 
' Blest Heaven ! undo this strife — 
Sweet Saviour, let thy glow 
Descend and soothe me, sad and low !" 



l8o FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE.' 



THE GRAVE. 

What whim of yearning age 

Impelled the hill-side sage — 

Zillora's antique sire ? — 

His spirit flamed with fire 

Of resurrected dreams, 

That verified old Love 

Undying. Ah ! there beams 

Unchanged, below, above, 

But Nature's truth her truth to prove. 

He prayed beside a mound. 

Hedged and violet-crowned : 

A wreath of rosemary 

Was held in his chary 

Embrace — Zillora's gift. 

His eyes were tear-bedimmed. 

As under the blue lift 

He knelt, and his locks rimmed 

The sod, by bounteous beauty limned. 

It was the rest of one — 
Than whom this world has none 
More pure in loving, true 
In trials, blisses too ! — 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." l8l 

Like whom there 's no other 

On earth, in Heaven, so dear — 

A kind, pious mother. 

And that spot revered sere 

And green had grown many a year. 

Zillora's mother there 

Slept beneath that mound, fair 

With cultured grass and flowers. 

How oft the duty's ours, 

O fellow-men, in deep. 

Yet conscious reverie, 

To wander and to weep, 

'Midst hills and by the sea. 

O'er ashes of mortality ! 

THE PAGE. 

Birds and flowers holy things 

Oft memorize ; the wings 

Of Thought irradiant shine, 

Upbearing themes divine, 

Blest by their communion. 

Oh, see ! a vision now 

Reveals a reunion — 

Where rests the homely plow, 

Where warblers chant and blossoms blow. 



l82 FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 

Humanity ! in these 
Creations, formed to please 
The passion-fretted soul, 
There is, though dirges toll 
In slow, sad succession, 
A happiness innate — 
Nature's warm expression — 
That bids bright Virtue wait 
Erect, and Vice crouch to its fate. 



Hark ! — from the willow-dell 

Chimes out the chapel bell, 

Clear, solemn music, to 

The many and the few. 

How such sounds admonish 

Mad revelers in guilt ! — 

But they none astonish, 

In broad Christian lands, built 

With altars, 'fore which fals'ties wilt. 



Down an arched aisle of trees 
And trellises, where bees 
And orioles hummed and sung. 
And floral drap'ries hung, 
Zillora humbly sped — 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 183 

Like an angel, earth-bound ; 

With her, faithful Hamed, 

Her boy-companion, crowned 

With favors, as with flowers the ground. 



Her page he was, and mild, 
Whom, when a tearful child, 
Vivanco plucked from doom 
Of ocean, and its gloom. 
Wooing sublimity. 
Nobleness he gained of 
Manner and symmetry : 
His thoughts for utt'rance strove 
In melodies that sound above. 



A bard, forsooth ! his lays 
Zillora's saddened days 
Diverted, and his sweet 
Rhyme-numbers were discreet, 
And flowed from Holiness- 
True inspiration's fount. 
Nature was his mistress — 
In valley and on mount — 
Whose charms he tired not to recount. 



184 FROM ^'ZILLORA, A TALE." 

On smiles, by woman given, 

Is reared the poet's Heaven ; 

And though his passions rage 

Infuriate, and wage 

Their lustful war : o'er all. 

E'en in the direst hour, 

Beams a song-coronal, 

Of intellectual dower, 

That aye bespeaks the godlike power. 

Th' empyrean o'er him. 

The glories before him, 

Around him, melting afar — 

Where the linked mountains bar 

The eye from the vast beyond. 

And hem the Beautiful 

In an azure-tint bond 

Of dreams ; from these to cull 

Delight, he 'd earth's base scenes annul ! 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 185 



THE WANDERER. 

O guardian spirits of the good — 

Alert in light of holy ray — 
Watch o'er his hours of solitude, 

And, when temptations crowd the way, 
Breathe on his soul and keep him true 

To country, friends, and native loam — 
His heart to blest endeavors woo, 

And urge the wanderer home. 



A trusty welcome waits him there ; 

Though 'tis alone a wife's embrace 
That wreathes with love his breast of care, 

How dear becomes the lowliest place ! 
Winds, waves, and sails propitious be — 

While sunshine sparkles on the foam 
That crests the billows of the sea — 

And bear the wanderer home ! 



l86 FROM 



THE WATCHER. 

Upon a hill-side lone, 

Whose less'ning shades were thrown 

Like black robes on the lawn, 

An old man sat at dawn — 

A relic of the Day 

That grappled Change, and died 

Before the new away ! 

A staff was at his side, 

And down the wold his fleecy pride. 

Calm as the scene, his eye — 

Glancing anon on high, 

And then earthward sinking — 

Wandered ; as though drinking 

Soul-draughts from the fountains 

Of ethereal Hope, 

Fortitude from mountains, 

Patience from plain and slope ; 

And through the vales his mind would grope 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 187 

In thoughts of many themes, 
' That deepened into dreams 
And phantasms of the tomb ; 
Till, 'midst the lily-bloom 
And rose-emblazonry, 
That bowered plain and wood, 
Where streamlets poured to sea. 
Roused Recollection stood — 
A sorrowed angel, there to brood ! 



A shout upon the coast ; 
A trumpet sound that 's lost 
In echoes 'mong the hills ; 
A ship, whose broad sail fills 
With inward breezes soft. 
To her moorings speeding : 
Casting the spray aloft — 
Waves aplay impeding — 
Oh, 'twas dignity exceeding ! 



All these the watcher heard 
And saw, nor uttered word ; 
But grasped his staff, and rose 
Benignant in his woes. 



l88 FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 

Adown the copse-screened glen, 
And o'er the clovered green, 
He journeyed : then, oh, then. 
His visage, pale of sheen. 
Revealed delight — long, long unseen. 

Oh, mightily rejoice — 
United heart and voice 
Of city, hamlet, home — 
When tidings gladsome come 
Of famous wanderer ! 
Those of the wayvi^ard child 
Inspire a holier 
Joy ; that beams like the mild 
Young day, through nightly storm-clouds 
wild! 



ZILLORA S SONG. 

There flew a little bird to me, 

It nestled in my virgin breast ; 
I could not tell it to be free, 

'Twas in its gentle thrall so blest- 
'Twas in its gentle thrall so blest, 

So joyous with supernal glee, 
That it would seek no other nest, 

In grove, or vale, or summer lea. 



FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE." 189 

It came unseen, 'twas all my own ; 

It sang so heavenly day by day, 
That ev'ry thought took up its tone, 

And mused no more the roundelay — 
And mused no more the roundelay 

Of wilds and waters, bloom-o'ergrown ; 
Borne by a mystic power away 

To dreams of light and joy unknown. 

Methinks my little minstrel flew, 

A cherub, from the highest sky ; 
So unlamenting and so true, 

If 'twere to die I too would die — 
If 'twere to die I too would die. 

And soar the heavens beyond the blue ; 
My heart should then have lost the tie 

That binds me, husband, unto you ! 

zillora's visitor. 

A rustic child, a girl, 
With golden hair a-curl. 
And tiny feet and eyes. 
That were for rhapsodies 
Fit themes. To Zillora 
She as a morning bliss 
Was wont to come. 



190 FROM "ZILLORA, A TALE. 



She brought full daintily, 

Though not in filigree, 

The fairest sisters of 

The gardened vale and grove ; 

Intertwined with mosses 

From the brook-shore, and shells, 

Shaped like Christian crosses. 

For chaste minds — wherein dwells 

Affection for what Vice repels. 



From basket of shore-reeds 

Those treasures peeped — from weeds' 

Embraces newly culled — 

To smile, and then be dulled ! 

And Zillora placed them, 

Dripping dews, in a vase, 

Glossed with many a gem 

And emblem of the race 

From which Vivanco sprang, to grace. 



